


Bygone

by inkbert



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Female Friendship, Time Skips, Time Travel, World War II, badass Darcy Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:30:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 88,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbert/pseuds/inkbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jane and Thor search the universe in order to find Darcy after a lab accident, Darcy wakes up still on Earth, just decades in the past. Darcy continues to travel through time, skipping ahead years at a time, and staying for as little as a few months or for as long as a year. She has a rock-solid friendship with Rebecca Barnes, and Howard Stark on Fridays at six to see her through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this poor guy didn't get any votes. I'm working on formatting the winner, the Steve/Darcy emails fic, but it's a real pain. I'm new to posting, and the fic heavily relied on different fonts and such to make it easy to understand. So for now, I decided to post this one, because while it didn't get any love in the vote, it was one of my favorites to write.

Darcy stumbles forward, a pair of bright blue eyes spearing into her own, like a beacon. Brick walls on either side, a godawful smell, and then she sees a big, angry man. Thankfully pointed away from her, but fists swinging.

Blue Eyes, her beacon, goes down.

“That’ll teach ya to go stickin’ your nose in where it don’t belong.” The big man yells as Darcy tips towards one side, bracing herself against the brick wall. “Don’t got Barnes followin’ ya around now, do ya?”

The big man pulls his leg back as Blue Eyes tries to stand up.

Darcy grabs the closest trash can lid, has a second to think huh, that’s heavier than I thought it would be and then she brings it down on the big guy’s head.

He goes down and Blue Eyes gets up. He’s got narrow shoulders and Darcy can look straight into his eyes standing flat footed. They’re really pretty eyes, with the longest lashes she’s ever seen on a man.

“Miss?” Blue Eyes frowns at her, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets. He glances towards the bigger man, who lies face down in the alley, then back up at her. Blood begins to drip out of his nose. He opens his mouth and then his eyes widen and he darts forward, catching Darcy as she pitches towards the ground.

 Darcy comes to on something soft, with a cool cloth dabbing at her forehead. "Jane?!"

“There you are now, and look at you.” A young woman with dark brown eyes and brown hair smiles down at her. There’s a worn green ribbon tied in her hair.

Darcy sits up in a panic. She’s on a narrow twin bed, the mattress lumpy underneath her, in a room she doesn’t recognize. The lamp on the side table is dim, and she stares at it, not quite comprehending. There’s a flame dancing on a wick. It’s an oil lamp.

“There, there. You’re alright now.” The woman says softly, reaching up to dab at Darcy’s cheek with the cool cloth. “Why don’t you tell me where you live? We’ll have someone run over and get your parents.”

The woman is wearing an old fashioned dress. Vintage style, except Darcy has a feeling it’s not vintage. She remembers a flash of light. Jane’s scream. A pull.

Darcy turns, scrambling for a basin of water. She heaves twice, but nothing comes up.

“Rebecca.” A woman says from the doorway. She’s got a stout, sturdy build and a scrutinizing expression. Gray hair streaking through brown. “Why don’t you keep Steven company?”

Rebecca gives Darcy an encouraging smile and abandons her seat next to the bed. Darcy sits the rest of the way up, feeling the older woman’s gaze on her.

“Ya expectin? Run away from home?”

“No ma’am.” Darcy answers automatically. The woman reminds her of her aunt Bev, who hadn’t taken bullshit from anyone and could smell a lie before it even left Darcy’s tongue.

The woman nods her head. She wears a stained white apron over a navy dress that is obviously well worn and fraying at the edges. Her stockings sag at the ankles.

“Steven says you appeared in a flash of bright light. One second you weren’t there, an’ the next you were.” That scrutinizing look gets even more severe now. Holy Thor, the woman could give most SHEILD agents Darcy had met a run for their money.

“Yes ma’am.” Darcy figures honesty is the way to go.

“You got a way to get home?”

“No ma’am.” Darcy shifts, heart aching. “Not even with a million dollars and my own airplane.”

“A million dollars, huh?” She braces her hands on her hips, looking Darcy up and down. Darcy fights against the urge to sit up straighter and loses, and she’s slumped her way through a meeting with Nick Fury and Pepper Potts. “Steve also said you walloped Elridge Hambert upside the head.”

Darcy wins the fight and doesn’t fidget, instead raising her chin. “He was going to kick him when he was already down.”

The woman looks up at the ceiling in plain exasperation. “Steven! I swear that boy is going to be the death of me.”

Darcy says nothing, still trying to take in the room. Like that might tell her where she is. But it’s small, with dingy walls, and a boxy dresser. One window looks over the building immediately next door.

“I’m a good Catholic woman, and I love that boy like my own, and trust him more than. He says you appeared in a flash of light, I’m going to believe him.” The woman steps further into the room. “You can stay here on three conditions: you get a job to pay your way, you go to church with us every Sunday and Wednesday, and you never lie to me.”

There’s that Aunt Bev look again. Darcy hopes for a bright light to zap her back out again, but she’s left with the woman waiting for her response. Damn you Jane!

Darcy spends the rest of the evening in bed. Mrs. Barnes insists.

Rebecca brings her dinner, but Mrs. Barnes calls for her within a few minutes, telling her Darcy needs her rest.

Which means Darcy is more than rested up when Rebecca comes in for bed. And Darcy realizes that they’re meant to share.

“Ma says we’re going to say you’re Daddy’s niece.” Rebecca tells her, stripping down without a qualm. “Tomorrow I can bring you into the shop to meet Mr. Prescott. If you sew well, he might let you work in the back.”

“I can’t sew.” Darcy tells her, now squishing herself to the wall as much as possible.

“Not at all?” Rebecca’s brown eyes are wide.

“Not a single stitch.” Darcy answers with a shrug. She’d listened to the radio in the other room earlier and learned it was September fourth, 1942. She’d been a little shell-shocked since.

“Well, I could teach you but... Mr. Prescott is very exacting.” Rebecca dashes across the chilly room and climbs into bed. Her knees knock against Darcy’s and she shivers. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get a job there. What can you do?”

Regurgitate pop culture from the future? Collate astrophysics data? Repel SHIELD agents? Toast poptarts like a pro?

“Type! I’m a really fast typer. Typist!” Darcy looks over at Rebecca. “That’s a thing now, right?”

“Can you really?” Rebecca’s brows are raised. “Where did you learn?”

“Where I come from everyone can type. It must be like sewing here.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll go to see Mr. Welker then, at the bank. He’s had a sign in the window for weeks.” Rebecca looks uncertain though. “Are you sure?”

“Why?”

“Not many girls from around here could have afforded the classes. If you really can type, you could get a higher paying job. Let’s not tell Ma unless you get it.” Rebecca smiles, but it twists oddly. “I used to wish I could learn to type. But I wouldn’t have met John.”

“John?”

“He’s my fella.” Rebecca’s smile turns genuine. “He’s Mr. Prescott’s son. We work together at his father’s shop.”

Rebecca is more than happy to spend the rest of the night telling Darcy all about John Prescott. His hair! Oh, and how he wears his coat collar! How sweet he is to her!

The next day Rebecca leaves Darcy at home to go down to a neighbor’s house to see about some clothes for Darcy.

It isn’t until Rebecca is helping do up Darcy’s dress that she explains that Lizzie Neiner had passed away from tuberculosis. Darcy’s mind scatters, trying to remember if that was one of the contagious ones.

“And her mother just gave them to you?”

“No, of course not. I’ve promised to do up her boy George’s shirts and slacks.” Rebecca responds, and at the time Darcy hadn’t realized that the promise meant weeks and weeks of late night work for Rebecca after ten hour days at the shop.

“Now, don’t let him scare you.” Rebecca says, clasping Darcy’s hand as she leads her down the street. “He’s a strange man, but he’s decent.”

Of course, Darcy almost ruins it before they get started. But she’s peering down at this giant typewriter with Mr. Welker and Ms. Howitz staring over her shoulder. And the keys are slightly offset and certainly more cramped together than the keyboards she’s used to. And it’s missing some numbers.

“Where’s the one key?” Darcy is already cringing.

“Why, you use the ‘l’ of course!” Ms. Howitz snaps.

“This model is a bit different from the one I used back home. Maybe you could type a line or two while I watch?” Darcy suggests, and Rebecca winces, her brows knit together anxiously. It’s only that Darcy is looking at this thing and she realizes there is no backspace, and she doesn’t know how to reset the bar or crank the page up.

“Well, I-“

“Calm yourself, Ms. Howitz!” Mr. Welker looks Darcy over. “I thought you said you were a typist.”

“A very fast typist! I just haven’t used a model like this one.” Darcy insists. “I assure you, once I’ve seen it through once or twice, I’ll be golden.”

“Golden.” Ms. Howitz repeats faintly.

“Golden.” Rebecca says with a firm nod.

“Show her how it’s done, Ms. Howitz. I do not have all day!”

Darcy feels sweat dripping down her back as she watches Ms. Howitz load a piece of paper, set the bar, and begin typing. She resets the bar with a loud ding and starts a second line. Her movements are so fast it’s hard to track.

Ms. Howitz stands up again, her shoulders stiff. She nods at the seat.

Well, shit. Darcy sits down and cranks the page down, then resets the bar. _Ding!_

“Right here, please.” Mr. Welker taps at the top of a handwritten bank note.

Darcy stares down at the keys in a way she hasn’t in years and starts typing. She has to push the keys harder and down farther. She’s slow to start, and certain she can feel Ms. Howitz’s eyes boring through her skull like a laser.

Then she picks up speed and nods to herself. _Ding!_ She keeps typing. _Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

She’s reached the end of the note. She turns in her seat to look up at Mr. Welker.

“You’ll be here at seven-thirty in the morning on Monday, and you’ll leave at six. You’ll report to Ms. Howitz. The job pays eighteen dollars a week.”

Inflation. Inflation. Inflation. Darcy manages to hold in her howl of disbelief, which is good because Rebecca looks as if she’s going to swoon.

Mr. Welker does not offer her a hand to shake, so Darcy clamps hers to her side.

Once they turn the corner at the end of the block Rebecca grabs her and spins. “Eighteen dollars! And you weren’t lying, you really can type fast!”


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Barnes wakes both of them up the next day for church. Darcy burns herself twice attempting to replicate the hairstyle Rebecca had done for her the day before. Rebecca takes over even as Mrs. Barnes yells for them to hurry.

The dress is Darcy’s least favorite. But it’s also the best fitting. Most of the others are too tight in the breast area and the hips. Rebecca has promised to sew her a few dresses as soon as Darcy gets her first paycheck. 

Darcy is still plucking at herself when someone knocks on the front door, then it opens and Blue Eyes steps in. 

“Steve! Is it that time already?” Rebecca gasps and runs back into their bedroom. 

“She’s always late.” He says, his eyes skimming over Darcy quickly. His cheeks flush when he sees her watching. “I’m Steve Rogers.” 

“Darcy Lewis.” She responds, not quite sure what to say to him. Thanks, dude, for carrying me two blocks in what was apparently very inappropriate clothing? According to Rebecca, that is. 

“I was glad to hear that you’re feeling better.” Steve says, apparently unaware of her brain spaz. 

“And she’s got a job!” Rebecca comes back in pinning a small hat to her head.

Mrs. Barnes comes into the room and adjusts Steve’s tie, then smooths a hand over his hair. Thanks to Rebecca, who happily chatters no matter what she’s doing, Darcy knows a lot about Steve.

She knows that Steve used to live down the hall in an apartment with his mother, Sarah, who was a nurse. When Sarah died Steve couldn’t afford the rent and moved to the next building over. His apartment is closer now though, because he’s on the same floor in the other building. 

Bucky, Rebecca’s brother and Steve’s best friend, would climb across the pipes into Steve’s apartment in secret. 

Steve gets odd jobs whenever he can, but his main income is doing copy art. He loses the other jobs when he gets sick, which is apparently a common occurrence. Steve’s been having a hard time of it, having been left behind when Bucky went to the army.

He hadn’t been accepted, Rebecca had told Darcy, for once her chipper tone lowering. 

“Miss Lewis?”

“Darcy!” Rebecca slaps at Darcy’s arm. “He asked where you’re going to be working.” 

“At the bank.” Darcy blurts. “As a typist.”

Like Rebecca’s had, Steve’s brows go up. 

They fall in line behind Mrs. Barnes. Rebecca immediately takes Steve’s arm once they reach the street, and Steve offers his other arm to Darcy. 

There was more that Rebecca had chattered about. How to refer to people, which places she could go on her own and which places she could not, how to behave towards a man, and how a man should behave towards her.

Darcy isn’t so sure she’s going to be able to pull it off. 

Steve sits with them at church. Darcy wants to be back in bed. She’s not religious - like at all. And it’s way too fucking early for this standing and kneeling, then sitting, then kneeling, then standing business. 

Then they all get up in a line to receive communion and Darcy feels like she’s going to be revealed as an outsider. But she listens to what Rebecca says in front of her, a little louder than necessary, and she completes the ritual successfully. 

At the end of the service Rebecca drags Darcy away to meet John. After the way Rebecca had gone on about him, Darcy had been a little worried. But it’s obvious that John is just as taken with Rebecca. 

She spends the next few days fumbling through cleaning and cooking while Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes work. The only thing she doesn’t at least marginally fail at is the doing the laundry, but it’s a tedious chore that leaves her hands red, dry and cracked. Standing over steaming pots of boiling water and scrubbing clothes over a washboard has made whoever invents washing machines a damned hero in her eyes.

On Monday she leaves the bank spitting mad. She’d been given one twenty minute break during which to eat lunch. Other than that she’d spent the entire eleven hour shift working her way through what appeared to be a massive backlog. 

Ms. Howitz had seemed to catch her every single mistake and Darcy wanted to throw her damned typewriter across the room. Not to mention, the tellers were all jackasses. Giving her smarmy smiles as they dropped off new notes, standing just outside the door to the tiny office and obviously looking while they elbowed each other. 

Darcy had spent a few hours smirking down at the keys imagining drop-kicking them in the balls. Then her wrists began to ache. Then she had to change the ribbon and Ms. Howitz had acted like she was a total moron.

By the time she pulls on her too small coat, she’s envisioning quitting in a blaze of glory. Only the thought of Rebecca’s and Mrs. Barnes’ reactions stop her. 

Steve is leaning against the building when she steps out. Two of the tellers are also lingering. Steve smiles at her.

“I thought I’d walk you home.” Steve straightens, taking his hands from his pockets. “I work just around the corner.”

“Miss Lewis-“ One of the tellers calls over.

Darcy crams her arm through Steve’s. “Walk. Before I throw something through the front window.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he starts walking. Smart man. He waits a block to attempt conversation again. “Rough first day?”

“Let’s just say that things are very different here.” Darcy says, swallowing a knot in her throat. She wants to be in Jane’s lab, listening to her iPod, toasting pop tarts, and perfectly allowed to tase sexist assholes.

“I imagine you must miss home.” He says softly. 

Darcy bites her lip and nods. His grip on her arm tightens, pulling her a bit closer to him. He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of their walk, but he’s a steady presence next to her. She also notices that she has a much easier time walking than she had that morning.

When she walks out the door the next morning, somehow the last one out in this messed up world of shit-tastic workdays, since Mrs. Barnes starts her shift at the laundry at five and John picks up Rebecca to start their day at the shop at six, she finds Steve waiting for her in the hall.

“Hey Steve.” She motions to the door. “Do you know how...”

She trails off as he holds his hand out for the key. He leans one shoulder against it, jiggles the key in the hole, jams the knob up, and then cleanly slides the key out. She’d nearly made herself late the day before, trying to get the key back out.

He hands her back the key, then shoves his hands into his pockets. She still manages to notice they’re ink-stained. 

“Which apartment was yours?” She asks as they walk down the hall. 

“Right here.” He nods his head to the side as they pass an apartment four doors down from the Barnes’ apartment. 

“Were you drawing last night?” Darcy asks, realizing her previous conversation topic pretty much ends at his dead mother. “Rebecca told me you draw, and I saw your hands.”

His ears go red and she kicks herself. 

“I, uh, worked last night. At the newspaper.” Steve shrugs his shoulders in a jerky movement. “Small enough to reach in quick.”

“You worked last night too? What time did you get off? When do you sleep?” Darcy demands, having had it about up to her ears with this time period. Mrs. Barnes had been stooping over almost at her waist after work, and after completing her own full working day Rebecca had made dinner and then set to work darning neighbors clothes for extra money. And they still had to scrimp and go without to get by.

“I slept.” He pushes open the door to the street, letting her walk through the door first. She waits at the top step for him and takes his arm. 

It sets the routine for the rest of the week. Steve is always waiting for her in hall to walk her to work, and outside the bank to walk her home. As Rebecca had said he did, Steve has dinner with them a few times that week.

Mrs. Barnes treats him as her own, and Steve’s ears frequently flush red. Rebecca teases him, but in a kind way that Darcy thinks is a lost art in her time. Humor is almost always at someone’s expense. Steve teases back, and Rebecca’s laughs make Mrs. Barnes’ tired smile a little brighter.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve elbows her gently during church that week. All Darcy can think is thank Thor Ms. Howitz is Jewish and won’t be anywhere near the Catholic service, or she would have seen that.

Straightening in the pew she darts a quick look down past Rebecca to see if Mrs. Barnes had seen her nodding off. Mrs. Barnes’ steely look pretty much drills Darcy back into the uncomfortable wooden bench.

“Damn.” Darcy mutters.

“Miss Lewis.” Steve chides teasingly out of the corner of his mouth. If she’d been on his left side he wouldn’t have heard - he’s almost completely deaf in that ear. His right ear is apparently an over-achieving snitch though.

“Darcy.” She corrects, almost out of habit, then snaps her mouth shut at the tightening of Mrs. Barnes’ lips.

After church she more than happily lets Rebecca drag her away to visit the Prescotts. She notices Steve is only too happy come along, no doubt avoiding Mrs. Barnes.

“If Martha has half a heart, she’ll have had the baby.” Darcy tells him as he cups her elbow. Rebecca holds her other hand, tugging her along. Mrs. Barnes loves babies, and if her friend Mrs. Chatham’s daughter had finally had her baby, maybe Mrs. Barnes would be distracted.

“I don’t think Martha Vangor’s baby cares about getting us out of trouble for talking during mass. Somehow.” Steve says, leaning closer to be heard.

She ends up standing to the side of the church steps with Steve while Rebecca and John flirt a few feet away. John’s pale golden hair glints brightly in the sun. Darcy can see John’s mother, Mrs. Prescott, watching them every once and a while.

“She wanted better for John.” Steve says, leaning back against the base of a pillar, his head tipped to the side.

Darcy moves to lean next to him, on his right side. “What?”

“Mrs. Prescott. She tried to set him up with Eleanor Winters all last year. She lives up on Water Street, and her father manages an office.”

“Better than _Rebecca_?” Darcy asks, looking over towards the couple. Rebecca’s hair is pinned back carefully, painstakingly replicated from a magazine picture Rebecca had stopped by the stand to see every day this week to memorize. Her dress, while worn and a bit out of style, is in near-perfect condition.

Not to mention that Rebecca has worked for Mr. Prescott for four full years, sometimes staying late after her nine hour shifts or bringing work home. Or that Rebecca is clearly head over heels for John, and he feels the same. Or that in addition to be a hardworker and loyal employee, and dedicated to John, Rebecca is smart and kind and good. 

“Couldn’t find better.” Steve agrees quietly. “I think she’s starting to figure it out.”

Darcy glances over at Steve wonderingly. Having grown up thick as thieves with Bucky, he would have had plenty of time to fall for someone so sweet, kind and pretty as Rebecca.

Rebecca practically bounces back over to them, clutching John’s hand. “We’re invited to Ruth’s birthday party this afternoon!”

“It’s just drinks and cake.” John says, smiling down at Rebecca. Darcy thinks these two are going to give her cavities, they’re so sweet.

“You’ll come, right?” Rebecca grabs Darcy’s hand and squeezes, but she’s looking at Steve.

“Oh. I don’t know, Becks.” Steve hedges, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Don’t make me go by myself.” Darcy pinches his arm. No way was she going to this shindig where no doubt Rebecca would be distracted by John. Darcy would probably do something horrifying like helping herself to the punch or sitting facing east or something, if left to her own devices.

“Steeeeeve!” Rebecca abandons Darcy’s hand and goes for Steve’s. “You know Ruth and Evelyn too!”

Ruth and Evelyn are some of John’s apparently legion sisters. There’s also Agnes, Marion, Katherine, Gladys, and Geraldine.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Steve acquiesces.

“I’ll make your acceptance sound a bit more enthusiastic than that, shall I, Rogers?” John asks, his tone dry.

“Oh, stop.” Rebecca grins impishly up at him.

Hours later Darcy is standing in a pretty backyard, drinking lemonade sweetened with plenty of sugar and staring a bit in disbelief. There is a crank record player and there is dancing. Real dancing. Young people choosing to dance, all on their own.

She stands next to Steve and avoids eye contact with all of the dedication of a girl buying her first box of tampons from the cute cashier. Darcy blanches with sudden horror. What fresh hell would it be when she got her period?

“Darcy?” Steve asks quietly. He reaches forward, hesitates, and withdraws his hand.

“Just realized something.” Darcy tries to shake it off. She’ll ask Rebecca tonight. One thing about sharing a tiny bed with someone, awkward takes a mortal hit early on.

“You can dance if you want.” Steve offers, looking straight ahead.

“I don’t know how to dance. Not like this anyway.” She looks over the group in the middle of the yard, laughing and spinning. Rebecca is in the thick of it, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with happiness.

Darcy could see why Steve hadn’t wanted to come. Ruth is his age, and had been in his year at school. She’s newly engaged and very close with her closest sister in age, Evelyn. The two Prescott sisters had all but ignored Steve’s presence, passing him over for the other male guests without so much as a greeting.

Marion, the youngest Prescott sister at eighteen, is the only kind one present as far as Darcy is concerned. She’s also the most popular, constantly in demand on the dance floor.

“I could teach you, if you want.” Steve’s ears are bright red.

“Here?” Darcy squawks.

“No.” He shakes his head. “After dinner some night. At your apartment. Rebecca can help, she’s the best dancer in the neighborhood.”

“I can help what?” Rebecca asks, slightly out of breath. She’s alone, so Darcy scans the party for John. He’s preparing two glasses of lemonade over at the buffet table.

“Teach Darcy to dance.”

And that sealed it. Rebecca hadn’t let it go, stating that it was even more important than being able to sew. Then Mrs. Barnes had gotten in on it, saying she’d like to see young people dancing.

So Steve and Darcy danced in the small living room while Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca traded off cranking their record player. Rebecca gave Darcy advice, sometimes stepping into Steve’s arms herself to demonstrate. Mrs. Barnes focused on Steve, correcting his arm, straightening his elbow, tapping his spine.

It turned out that Steve knew how to dance in theory, but had never done so in practice.

There were a lot of colliding feet, and once Darcy almost tipped over but Steve’s arm banded around her, keeping her upright. It reminds her that he carried her here from the alley, and that he’s stronger than he looks.

After a long night spent nearly avoiding each other’s feet, Darcy is exhausted when she crawls into bed with Rebecca. Her hair is wrapped around curlers and tied with a kerchief since it’s her night and they trade off.

“I think Steve is sweet on you.” Rebecca whispers, turned to face Darcy. Her hair is braided back, Darcy’s only contribution in the hair department.

“Steve?” Darcy asks in surprise, glancing reflexively to the window. They can see the glow of Steve’s lamp from his window across the alley.

Rebecca gasps and sits up with a scowl. Cold air invades Darcy’s warmth and she reaches up to drag Rebecca back into place. “What’s wrong with Steve?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with Steve!” Darcy hisses, worried Rebecca’s loud question might have carried through the thin walls to Mrs. Barnes’ room. “He’s just so...good.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Rebecca asks, resituating the covers, her face pillowed next to Darcy’s. “I know he’s... smaller than the average-“

“Why would he be interested in me?” Darcy interrupts. “I curse in church!”

And while Mrs. Barnes hadn’t heard particularly what Darcy had said, during her dressing down she’d seemed to be able to see in Darcy’s freaking soul that she didn’t know the half of it. She’d asked if Darcy shouldn’t take over the dishes for the week and Darcy had meekly agreed.

“Darcy.” Rebecca giggled.

“You should hear what I say in my head!” Rebecca only giggles more. Darcy looks at the wall separating them from Mrs. Barnes, but the older woman’s snores continue. “Fuck.”

Rebecca’s eyes go wide and her hand comes up to clamp over Darcy’s lips.

“Fshee?” Darcy asks, her words muffled by Rebecca’s hand, which is promptly removed. “Not the gal for Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, like he’s an angel.” Rebecca whispers. “We both know better than that.”

“Uh, have you seen those eyelashes?” Darcy sighs dramatically. “Which go with those eyes?”

Rebecca squeals and it’s Darcy’s turn to cover her friend’s mouth.

“Shhhhh!” Darcy hisses.

“You _are_ sweet on him! I knew it!”

“On Steve? Who wouldn’t be?” Darcy asks. Steve, who waits everyday outside her work without fail, even though Darcy had learned the place that he works on _Mondays only_ is not, in fact, just around the corner. Steve who came home with a busted lip and a black eye four days ago only to have old Mr. Grant stopping by with a loaf of raisin bread to thank him for standing up for his granddaughter.

“None of the girls here can see past a pair of broad shoulders. Half the neighborhood is swooning over Fred Banks, and he’s a complete bully.” Rebecca’s smile dims. “There was one girl, Bucky found her. I thought maybe... but she didn’t stick around.”

“I was pretty sure you two were destined for each other actually, you’re both so good.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes, opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Darcy’s heart sinks, thinking that maybe Rebecca does hold a candle for Steve after all. Which shouldn’t matter, because Darcy has no claim on him at all.

“Fuck.” Rebecca whispers, then grins victoriously though her eyes are as wide as half dollars. “There. Now I’m just as unsuitable.”

“Your mother is going to be able to see this. We are so dead.”

“We are so dead.” Rebecca echoes teasingly, apparently another saying that hasn’t quite made it big yet. “I happen to think we’re golden.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Steve is quiet during their walk to the bank. He doesn’t speak until they’re over halfway there, despite seeming to start to several times.

“Did you and Rebecca have fun last night?”

“What?” Darcy looks over at him, confused. Rebecca had been working on several projects. She’d finished letting out one of Darcy’s dresses so it would fit better. Darcy is wearing it today. She thinks Steve noticed, even if only the hem and collar are visible outside of her coat. Her eyes widen when he looks over at her. “Steven Rogers, how much did you hear?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He holds up his hands and dodges her slaps, only to pull her back close as soon as she relaxes. The cold is biting. “Just Rebecca. Laughing.”

“Giggling you mean.” Darcy corrects. “Crappy windows for the win.”

Steve’s brow flickers upward like it does when she forgets herself and doesn’t speak 40s. “Sounded like you were having fun. You’re lucky Mrs. Barnes didn’t hear you.”

“I _know_.” The bank comes into view. Darcy scowls at it, but picks up her pace. Ms. Howitz always looks at the clock as soon as Darcy steps in the door.

Steve tightens his grip on her when they cross the street, ice and gravel crunching under her heels. Darcy curls into him when the wind picks up, sharp on her cheeks, ears and neck and digs into her purse to pull out a handkerchief to wipe at her dripping nose again.

“Talking about John?” Steve asks with a smirk as they reach the bank.

Darcy unwinds her arm from his, certain her nose is as bright as Rudolph’s by now. So she doesn’t look at him as she walks to the door. “If you must know, we were talking about you, Mr. Rogers.”

When Steve meets her that afternoon he pulls a blue scarf from the pocket of his oversized coat and holds it out to her. Its worn with little nubs on the fabric, so she doesn’t worry that he’s spent any money.

She glances around the street at the scattered women. They have their scarves wrapped over their heads, then tucked around their neck and into the front of their coats somehow. “I don’t know how...”

Steve stretches the scarf out, reaching up to carefully lay the middle over the top of her head. “Then you kind of twist and wrap the ends around to the back, over your shoulders, and then tuck it in the front.”

Darcy follows his directions, a bit awkwardly. The wind whips around the corner and she smiles up at him. “Much better. Thank you, Steve.”

He shrugs a narrow shoulder. “It was my mothers. It was just sitting around, I had meant to take it down to the church box but...”

“Thank you.” She repeats.

It’s another quiet walk with Darcy watching Steve out of the corner of her eye. Several times he straightens his shoulders, one time even turning to her and opening his mouth, only to turn away again.

Once they’re back at the apartment, he lingers in the hall. “Steve?”

“Hm?” Those blue eyes focus on her.

“Don’t you have to get to the docks?” Darcy asks, because he’d set the pace on the way home, and she’s pretty sure he’s running behind now.

His eyes widen.

Darcy laughs. “Go! And thanks again!”

He waves a hand backwards as he runs for the stairs.

In the apartment Darcy finds Rebecca at the stove. Mrs. Barnes isn’t in her chair or sitting at the table.

“It was a hard day.” Rebecca says in explanation, and Darcy knows Mrs. Barnes has retreated to bed.

The next morning Steve is quiet, but he always is on Thursdays. He spends Wednesday evening at the docks, where it’s cold and the work is hard. Then he goes to the newspaper and works until six, first helping with the press, then doing a janitorial shift before the editors come in. He walks Darcy to work before he goes home to sleep.

He still keeps a tight grip on her, his arm offering steady support over the icy trek to the bank. Women’s shoes are made with smooth soles, and sometimes Darcy feels like she’s attempting to ice skate thanks to drizzle that had fallen the night before, leaving a fresh frozen glaze on every surface.

Her day takes a turn for the better when Mr. Welker calls Alvin Whitaker and Edward Kratz into his office, his yelling voice audible even in the lobby. After that, Whitaker and Kratz don’t so much as look in the direction of the type room.

Darcy has caught up on the back log, and it had been glorious to watch Ms. Howtiz walk into the storage closet in disbelief. Now Darcy only copies the notes that come through each day.

Steve is more awake when he meets her after her shift is over, but distracted watching the tellers discuss getting drinks.

“Do we have to stop by the print makers?” Darcy asks, tapping his scuffed briefcase and bringing his attention to her.

He offers his arm, turning toward the office instead of home as his answer. Darcy tells him about Mr. Welker’s tirade and Ms. Howitz’s gaping fish face, but she doesn’t get the reactions she normally would.

They drop off his commissions to Mr. Anderson and Darcy sits on a bench in the busy back room. Piles of paper are everywhere, and it smells strongly of ink and wood polish. Mr. Anderson nods to her while Steve signs the records sheet.

“I thought you’d be more interested in my little victories today.” She comments as they step back onto the street.

“What? I mean, I am.” Steve rubs at the back of his neck and doesn’t offer his arm. Darcy steps closer to him on the busy sidewalk. “I just...”

“What?” Darcy is jostled forward and Steve’s eyes shoot over her shoulder to eye the man angrily. She reaches forward to hold his arm.

“Would you like to take in a show?” He asks, setting his shoulders. “At the pictures, I mean. Tonight. With me. John and Rebecca need someone to double with, or they can’t go.”

“A movie?”

He nods, raising his chin.

“Are you asking because John and Rebecca asked you to, or because you want to?” Darcy fights a sniffle, because thanks nose, that’s so romantic, and also tries to force her heart rate to lower. But oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

She watches those ears go red, and that chin comes up even further. “I want to take you to a show.”

If she was smart, she’d say no. She’s still hoping for that bright flash of light to take her home. She has no business taking in a show with this man who makes her heart ache in her chest.

“I’d love to.”

“Like a date?” He clarifies. “With me.”

“Well, I didn’t think you were asking me on a date with Mickey O’Brien.” Darcy pokes him in the arm. “Do I have to spell it out? Yes, Steve Rogers, I would love to go on a date to the pictures with you.”

His lips curve into a smile and his eyes become somehow hypnotizing. “I think you’d better spell things out for me from here on out, just so I make sure and get it through my thick skull.”

She takes his arm and sniffs. “You do have a thick skull.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says, perfectly straight-faced. An expression she knows well, because Steve Rogers is a troll.

Darcy loses the battle not to smile and can’t begin to regret it when she sees his answering grin.

Darcy is very aware that night that Steve can hear them as Rebecca squeals with delight when Darcy explains. Then it’s a flurry of getting ready, with Rebecca hurriedly finishing stitching up the first dress she’d sewn for Darcy. It’s rich navy colored and made of sturdy, warm fabric. It nips in perfectly at the waist, over Darcy’s hated girdle.

Then Rebecca is working quickly at Darcy’s hair. Darcy had managed a few more basic hairstyles, though she wasn’t anywhere as quick as Rebecca. But Rebecca is twisting and curling Darcy’s hair up into something gorgeous that back home she’d pay forty or fifty dollars for.

“Oh, I wish Bucky was here.” Rebecca pulls the last pin from between her lips and inserts it into Darcy’s hair.

“Steve got a letter today.” Darcy tells her. “He’ll probably read it to us tonight.”

Steve does, though Darcy can tell he’s skipping over parts. John sits next to Rebecca on the couch, and Darcy sits on the arm of Mrs. Barnes’ chair near the stove. Bucky got another promotion, and wrote about how cold it was in the barracks. He writes that there’s man called Wallace that reminds him of Steve, and reading this makes Steve grimace.

Afterwards Mrs. Barnes chases them out the door.

Rebecca and John walk ahead of them, strolling slowly. All around them the streets have changed from the daily crush, instead filled with couples walking arm in arm, just a bit closer than they normally are.

Steve tells her about Bucky, how much sense it makes that he’d be promoted. Darcy listens, knowing how much Steve misses him. Bucky and Rebecca had shared the bedroom Darcy and Rebecca share now, but after the Rogers moved in down the hall Bucky had slept there more often than not.

Mrs. Rogers often worked nights at the hospital. She’d come home and make breakfast for Steve and Bucky, with enough to bring back to Rebecca. In exchange, Steve usually ate dinner at the Barnes’ table.

According to Mrs. Barnes, they’d been in each other’s pockets since age ten. And now Bucky had gone off to become a soldier, and there wasn’t anything Steve wanted more than to join him.

“I’m sorry.” Steve says, stopping suddenly in the middle of a story about how he and Bucky had lead a group of neighborhood boys in moving Mrs. Trent’s piano three blocks over and up two flights of stairs.

“I understand, and you’re a good story teller.” Darcy tells him honestly, with a smile. “I have Jane.”

“Jane.” Steve repeats. “I’ve told you all about Buck. Tell me about Jane.”

“She’s my best friend.” Darcy says simply. “I’d do anything for her. I’ve followed her half way around the world.”

“Around the world?” Steve asks, looking interested. “You’ve traveled?”

“I went to college in Virginia.”

Steve stops next to her. “You went to college?”

“It’s common where I’m from.” Darcy tugs at his arm, to keep up with Rebecca and John.

Steve nods but still looks uneasy. “And where else?”

“I went to New Mexico to help her with a research project. She’s a scientist. Then we went to Austraila, Brazil, and then here.” She talks fast towards the end because Steve’s jaw is getting tighter. “Steve?”

“You went to college, you’ve been out of the country.” Steve says, shaking his head. “It was bad enough when you were just a beautiful typist.”

“Bad enough?”

“Everyone we’ve passed has wondered what a dame like you is doing with me.” Steve tells her. “You haven’t seen the fellas looking?”

“Steve.” Darcy tugs at his arm, then stops when he refuses to look at her. Like the gentleman he is, he stops with her. “There isn’t anyone here or back home that I would rather be on a date with. And no, I haven’t seen anyone looking because I’ve been too busy looking at you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I guess I’ll have to tell Rebecca her dress needs some work, because you-“

“Sweetheart.”

Darcy stops, her brow raising. Because Steve calling her sweetheart? Butterflies like woah.

“It’s been all I can do to look at anything other than you in the dress with that lipstick.”

Darcy beams. “You like that, huh? I’ve always been a fan of red. It’s not that popular where I’m from.”

“Hey, we’re going to be late!” John calls to them.

Steve’s eyes stay glued to her lips for a second longer, then he tears his eyes away. Darcy feels delicious warmth flood her.

They catch up to John and Rebecca and Darcy pulls herself closer to Steve, so they’re pressed together side to side. Still wanting to be closer, she brings up her other hand to lay on his forearm.

During the movie Darcy learns that necking at the theater is a real thing. Over half the couples are completely involved in each other, and the couple directly in front of her hadn’t come up for air.

John and Rebecca are curled together, but as far as Darcy could see, and she hadn’t been looking too hard, they engage only in light canoodling. She wonders if it’s because Steve is present, like an extension of Bucky.

The movie is _The Philadelphia Story_ and Darcy finds herself watching the extravagant clothing and meals as much as the story line. It’s amazing after the scarcity she’d grown used to over the past weeks.

The seats are wooden and uncomfortable and she wants to lean against Steve, maybe rest her head on his shoulder. But he sits stiff and straight next to her, his hands in loose fists on his knees.

It’s raining again when they leave the theater. Both John and Steve had carried umbrellas. Darcy grabs Steve’s free hand in her own, twining her fingers through his and trapping their joined hands between them as she huddles into his side under the umbrella.

He holds her hand for a while, but pulls away when her shoe skids on the ice, instead wrapping his arm around her waist somewhat hesitantly, the way John has his arm around Rebecca ahead of them. Darcy leans into his side to assure him that she is more than okay with it.

Her shoes are a menace, plus she’s pretty sure she’s not getting a goodnight kiss.

She gets a smile at the door, while Rebecca gets a perfunctory kiss from John.

On Saturday she walks down to the library, having seen an ad in the paper. They’re paying two pennies a card for typists to copy card catalog entries onto new index cards from the old handwritten ones. It’s more intensive than it seemed, what with having to adjust the bar so many times to get the information in the right places.

She works for four hours, types eighty cards, and makes a dollar sixty, but her fingertips hurt from the bar grip on their older model machine. She quits earlier than she’d planned to because her fingers are red and she doesn’t want to be slowed down at her actual job.

On the way home she uses some of the money to buy a pair of gloves for eighty cents. The warmer pair were a dollar fifty, but she couldn’t justify spending so much.

She pulls them on leaving the shop, not paying enough attention, and slides on the ice. Someone catches her, hands tight on her hips, pulling her back into their chest as they skid too. His arm bands around her stomach, his big shoulders curling over her.

“Woah. Alright?” Big hands hold her steady.

Darcy looks up, skin crawling, then relaxes at John’s face looking down at her in concern.

“Women’s shoes are a joke.” Darcy tells him grumpily. She’d set out this morning happy to prove that women could navigate the world without a male escort. It turns out that perhaps they are not properly attired for such things.

“May I?” John offers his arm gallantly. “I’m on my way to pick up Rebecca for dinner and cards with my family. I should have asked if you could come.”

Darcy is glad that he didn’t. Steve comes over for dinner, and Mrs. Barnes falls asleep in her chair. Steve sits next to her on the couch and she steals his hand, tracing her fingers over his. He has beautiful hands.

She asks what his favorite job was, and he tells her about a mural he painted for a music shop a year ago. She makes him promise to take her by it sometime, but they’d have to pay to take the subway. He asks what she misses most about home, other than people.

She’s stymied thinking of everything, so he restricts her to the first three things she can think of. Her iPod, lattes, and pants. The third thing had actually been money, but she doesn’t want to say it.

Mrs. Barnes had told her that Steve had been contributing four dollars a week to the Barnes household since Bucky left for training, and once Darcy had come he’d upped it to seven.

Rebecca and John return late and Mrs. Barnes goes to bed. Rebecca tries to convince John to stay for a while, but he says his father will be waiting up. Instead, Rebecca joins Darcy and Steve in the living room, turning on the radio. A mystery show is playing, and they talk softly between listening.

Steve runs next door for his sketchpad and they pass a few hours, until Darcy is nodding off into her chest and Rebecca has fallen asleep with her head pillowed on her arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy has survived her first period, and three weeks of dating Steve Rogers without a kiss when she finally cracks.

“Rebecca.” She whines pathetically.

Rebecca looks up from the men’s dress shirt she’s repairing with a quizzical look.

Darcy abandons her place on the bed and moves to sit on the rug at Rebecca’s feet, much closer. “When did you first kiss John? Like, how long are we talking here?”

Her friend laughs at her.

“Rude.” Darcy flicks Rebecca’s shin.

“I’m sorry!” Rebecca whispers, in deference to Mrs. Barnes sleeping in the bedroom just on the other side of the wall. “It’s just I’ve noticed a certain amount of... pining.”

“Pining.” Darcy mutters. Hell, she’s about to explode from frustration and want. Steve has taken a page from her book. At the theater he’ll take her hand and run his fingers along it, from the tips of her fingers, over her palm, up her thumb. He puts his arm around her without hesitation.

Darcy knows how he smells. She knows what his laugh sounds like with her ear pressed to his chest. Once when they’d been waiting for his pay at the docks he’d even unbuttoned the front of his coat and wrapped it around her.

“Yes, pining. If it’s any consolation, I think Steve’s brain is about to catch on fire every time you’re together.”

“Hmph.” Darcy pokes through Rebecca’s sewing box. It was a very nice one, and had been a gift from John for her birthday. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“We kissed on our first date.” Rebecca whispers, even lower than before.

“What?!” Darcy drops the spool of emerald green thread in outrage. Outrage!

“But we knew each other for years beforehand. And were sweet on each other for at least a year.” Rebecca rushes to explain.

But Darcy isn’t having it. No, sir. She’d thought this was all because of 40s dating norms or some shit. The era of Netflix and chill it was not. But no.

She gets to her feet and is to the window before Rebecca can react. She’s got it open before Rebecca can run over.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca hisses, grabbing for Darcy’s arms as the cold air rushes in.

“Getting my damn kiss, that’s what.” Darcy examines the pipes that run between the buildings. They’re thick and there are two of them right next to each other, making a bridge that’s at least six inches across. And the gap between the buildings is only four feet wide.

“No.” Rebecca grabs onto Darcy’s elbow. “No, no, no, no.”

“Yes.” Darcy shakes her off and climbs into the window sill. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

“Darcy!”

“Rebecca!” Darcy hisses back as her feet touch the icy pipes. She presses her weight on them experimentally. But Bucky had done this a thousand times, according to Rebecca.

Plus, Darcy had faced a Destroyer, Dark Elves, and airport security on no coffee. Darcy pushes out of the window and scoots across the pipes.

“Nooooooooooooo.” Rebecca squeaks.

Steve’s light is on. She can even see his shadow on the parquet floor. She reaches his window and lets her legs drop so she’s straddling the pipes. Her lady parts do not thank her.

She wants to SHIELD knock on his window. All I can and will break this down, because I’m getting what I want. But Mrs. Barnes would probably hear that. So she taps. Insistently. With her index finger.

Steve’s expression is confused when he leans into view, then his eyes go wide and he knocks over his chair running to the window.

Darcy doesn’t even have time to say anything before he’s yanking her inside. She shivers against him and he holds her tight with one arm while reaching around her to pull the window closed.

“Darcy?! What-what?!” He shakes his head and bands his arms around her, one hand coming up to hold the back of her head. “Darcy! What were you thinking!?”

“Pssh, Bucky did that all the time. I’m here for my kiss.”

“Bucky - he - kiss -what?” Steve shakes his head, adorably confused. Then anger begins to build in his eyes.

“You owe me a kiss, Rogers. I’m here to collect.”

“You climbed over the pipes, four stories up, to get a kiss?” He asks, nonplussed.

So Darcy kisses him. It muffles whatever he was going to say next. After a second, his grip changes. His head tilts.

Darcy leans into him and lets her hand travel up from where he’d trapped it between their chests to slide into the hair at the nape of his neck. He groans.

Then he finally decides to be an active participant, teeth nipping at her bottom lip suddenly, enough to shock her. Then his tongue runs over it before darting up to trace the seam of her lips.

She’d been worried about 40s kissing.

She’d had nothing to worry about.

When he pulls back, they’re both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m bad at waiting.” She whispers, and he laughs.

“I’ll walk you back over.”

“Nope.” Darcy shakes her head and pulls away. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back over the pipes. You know Mrs. Barnes will wake up if the front door opens.”

“Darcy.”

“Steven.” She replies back, just as firmly.

“Please, doll?”

“Cheater. It’s not going to work anyway. I’ve done stuff way worse than this back home. I saved a dog from a fire in a pet shop!”

Steve’s eyes slam shut and he winces.

“Oh, stop it, Mr. Gets Beat Up Every Other Day Fighting The Good Fight.”

Steve ends up leaning out his window with his hand fisted in the back of his coat, which he’d forced her into. Rebecca opens the window back up and reaches out for her.

“Our first kiss was nothing like that, just so you know.” Rebecca whispers as she shuts the window behind Darcy and waves to Steve. “I think his brain did catch on fire.”

Darcy looks back across the gap. Steve is leaning in his still open window, arms braced on either side, head hanging.

She waits until he looks up again and smiles at him.

He shakes his head and pulls the window shut.

The next morning Steve asks her to be his girl, and she agrees and then kisses him so long that they have to practically run to get her to work on time.

After that, John and Rebecca kissed a lot more in the theater on their double dates. John didn’t have to worry so much about Steve acting as Rebecca’s stand in big brother when Steve was so distracted himself.

They ride out to see his mural and Darcy wishes she had a camera. His ears are red, and she knows it’s not just from the cold. She takes in the colors, the people, the shine of the saxophone.

“You’re amazing.” She says, turning to Steve. Who had created this.

He couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread over his face. Darcy grabs his hands and kisses each one.

“Darce.”

She smiles at his warning and kisses him. Someone whistles sharply down the street and Steve’s hands land firmly on her arms to set her back.

“Come on, let’s get home.” Steve says, giving her a mock stern look. He stiffly offers his arm and Darcy formally puts her hand just at the crook of his arm. They walk with straight spines for several steps before Steve reaches up and pulls her arm the rest of the way through his and they bump together.

The following week Mrs. Barnes can hardly do anything other than work. Steve comes over and helps cook since Darcy was still terrible with the stove, and no great shakes at cooking even once it was lit.

The following Saturday, Rebecca and Darcy talk with Mrs. Barnes about quitting at the laundry. Bucky is four months away from completing training and he’s already risen to a corporal, which means once he deploys Mrs. Barnes will get thirty-seven dollars a month as his dependent, and Rebecca an additional thirty.

Steve had already upped his contribution by three more dollars, making it ten dollars a week by slipping it to Rebecca.

Darcy goes to Mr. Welker at the bank and asks to be allowed to take on extra work to do when she’s completed her days work. Ms. Howitz absolutely refuses, insisting that Darcy is being paid by the bank during the hours she’s there.

With her heart in her throat, Darcy states that she could quit and they could wait to hire a girl who would take the same pay and not finish her work every day. Mr. Welker agrees if she’ll take a dollar cut in pay each week since she’ll be using the bank’s equipment.

Darcy picks up more copy work from the library, but switches to doing work for a rubber band company that pays ten cents a page.

The first week in November Mrs. Barnes gets sick and has to quit her job. She’s in bed for nine days and they have to get a prescription. Steve pays for it, insisting that the Barnes had bought him more prescriptions than he could count.

They can’t afford to go out on dates, and Steve took on extra work down at the police station so Darcy hardly sees him. Finally she’s had enough, and seeing his light on through the window, crawls across the pipes again.

His eyes still widen, but he doesn’t act like she’d just taken her life in her hands this time.

“Another kiss?” He asks her after he’s shut the window behind her.

Darcy rubs her hands together. “I won’t say no, but I was hoping for a dance.”

They dance and kiss until Steve notices with a start that it’s snowing and he insists she goes back across before the conditions worsen. Again, he holds onto the back of her coat until Rebecca lets her back in.


	6. Chapter 6

Rebecca insists they go caroling at the church. The first time they go, Steve is working at the docks. The second time he can come, and Darcy is slightly more excited.

It was nothing like caroling back home. Everyone piles into the church, mostly younger people, and there are snacks and hot cider. There’s dancing and singing. Darcy is surprised to learn that Steve has a wonderful singing voice.

And by wonderful she totally means delicious. Steve has the best voice anyway. Sometimes she can close her eyes and just listen to him talking at night, and it gives her shivers.

Mickey O’Brien asks her to dance, then Peter Jenkins is waiting but John slips in first. She fans her face after the dance, and John leads her to the refreshments table. Darcy returns to Steve’s side happily, wrapping her hand around his and leaning her head on his shoulder.

Rebecca plays the piano beautifully and Steve reveals that when Mr. Barnes had been alive he’d paid for twice weekly lessons for both Rebecca and Bucky. Darcy just likes to watch Rebecca glowing with happiness at the piano, John standing next to her singing along.

That night Darcy crawls back over the pipes and is kissing Steve before he can get the window shut. His hands brush over her hips, up her sides, and tortuously close to her breasts.

It’s too much for her and she pushes him towards the bed.

“Darcy.” His voice is hoarse.

“Do you have condoms?” She asks, then blinks. “Have you? Before?”

He nods.

“Me too.” She wonders if that will affect his opinion of her. “And I want you. Steve, please.”

His eyes darken with lust and she can see his pupils constrict and then blow out at her words.

He reaches for the button at her collar, but doesn’t work his way down. “Are you sure?”

“Steven Rogers, if you don’t undress me right now I may die.” She says before attacking his lips. If his hands shake as they undo her buttons, she says nothing, because her whole body is trembling with want.

The cold air doesn’t do much for her though. He seems to realize and tugs her to the bed, pulling the covers back.

Once they're under the covers, his lips are hot on her skin, and he kisses her everywhere. Her neck. Her collar bones. Her wrists and palms. He trails down her stomach and kisses each of her hip bones, then surprises her by hooking her legs over his shoulders and lavishing attention on her clit until she’s saying his name in a lust-drunk love-drunk unending litany.

Her muscles twitch and her heartbeat throbs in her ears when he sits up, carefully tucking the covers back around her, to put on the condom. His skin is winter pale, and his muscles are sinewy stretched over thin limbs. His knees and elbows tend towards knobby, and his chest is sunken.

She realizes he’s stopped moving and finds him watching her look at him. She pulls him back under the covers and tries to make him feel as loved as he’d made her. She drags her hands over his muscles and leaving suckling kisses everywhere she can reach.

When he’s shaking underneath her, groaning her name, begging her, she sits up.

“Please, Steve.”

He sits up, twisting and guiding her down. Her eyes roll back in her head when he slides into her. It doesn’t last long enough for her to come again, but she’s close.

Two days later, he’s coughing during their morning walk. He’s even worse on the walk back home. The morning after that she insists he not pick her up in the evening.

When she steps outside the bank, carrying her heavy case of copy work, it’s to find John waiting for her.

“It was the only way Rebecca could convince him to stay home.” John explains, taking the case from her.

Mrs. Barnes goes to sit with him through the days, and Darcy and John walk his commissions to Mr. Anderson. The man is reluctant to give Darcy any new assignments for him, but Darcy manages to convince him to do it.

John ignores her tears other than to hand her a clean kerchief.

Neighbors drop off canned goods and quick breads, most left outside the door without a note.

Darcy spends the two worst nights at his side. When he gets chills so bad his teeth chatter, she climbs into the bed next to him and falls asleep there.

Mrs. Barnes says nothing when she finds her there in the morning. Darcy doesn’t know what the woman might have said, if anything, if Darcy hadn’t climbed out of bed fully clothed.

Steve is more alert that night. He eats in bed and is strangely observant of her. His eyes follow wherever she goes. He grimaces when she tells him someone from the docks and the paper stopped by, both to tell him he’d lost his place there.

His jaw tightens when Darcy tells him Mr. Welker agreed to let her stay behind during the day’s final count so she could get more copy work done.

“I don’t mind Steve.” Darcy tells him. “I’ve always been a hard worker, and the Barnes let me stay with them like I’m family. I wouldn’t be able to afford a place on my own.”

Plus she wouldn’t be allowed one. Not without some fancy lies about being a widow or some such.

“I don’t want to live like you’re leaving.” Steve says suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Either one of us could leave. I could get sick again.” He laughs humorlessly. “I will get sick again.”

“Steve, stop.” Darcy takes his hand and squeezes his fingers. It’s not like him to be so pessimistic or bitter. It’s one of her favorite things about him, the way he just faces problems head on.

“And I’m going to keep trying to enlist until they accept me.”

“I know.” Darcy does know. She almost hopes that it doesn’t happen. But she can’t imagine what it would do to Steve to sit through the war that she knows is coming. She also doesn’t know what it would do to her to know he’s over there.

“But I want you to marry me, Darcy. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you to be mine.” He looks around the apartment and down at himself in the bed. “I’m sitting here barely able to support myself now that I’ve lost my job again, too sick to walk you to work and back, but I swear Darcy, I’ll love you every day that we have each other. I swear I’ll make it all work, that I’ll give you the best-“

Darcy kisses him, overflowing with emotion. When it’s not enough, when his hands pull at her, she climbs onto the bed and straddles him. Relief that he really is getting better after the nights that his coughs seemed like they were going to break him apart. So, so much love.

Sadness that it seems like he’s saying goodbye, but what else could it be, a marriage between them? She’s seen his asthma attacks due to the cold and Rebecca had told her it would be worse in the summer. She’s seen his stomach reject the only food they can buy. She’s watched his pulse jump in his neck with what she can only assume is a heart murmur. And she’s as likely to stay here for the rest of her life as disappear in the next second.

But elation is the overwhelming emotion, the one that overtakes them all. That _Steve_ wants to marry her. That she’s going to say yes, and they’re going to build a life together.

“Yes.” Darcy says against his lips as tears drip down her face. “Yes, yes, please, yes.”

“You’re always saying please, Darce. I’ll give you whatever you want, you don’t gotta say please.” He says, his hands threaded through her hair.

She laughs. “But I’m not cooking for you every day, buddy. And I don’t wear a girdle after I’m home. And I don’t buy that whole the man is the head of the household business, we’ll be partners. And I can’t sew. And I’m still going curse like a sailor, and unless Mrs. Barnes makes me, I’m not going to church.”

“I know. I already know all of this.”


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy marries Steve Rogers on December 15th, 1942, exactly three months, two weeks and four days after she met him. She’s never been more certain of a decision in her entire life. 

Rebecca and John are their witnesses, and Mrs. Barnes sits in one of the courthouse pews. John had procured paperwork for Darcy through one of his brother-in-law’s more shady relations, and the judge hadn’t looked twice.

Steve wears his father’s ring with a piece of cloth knotted around it several times to keep it on. For Christmas he had his mother’s rings re-sized for Darcy’s smaller fingers.

She takes a single day off from the bank, much to Ms. Howitz disapproval. The reception at the church is small, only attended by people from the neighborhood. Rebecca and Mr. Grant’s granddaughter Eunice Adams bake a cake. Vera Adams, the only child resulting from Eunice’s marriage before her husband died, eats eight pieces and throws up in her mother’s lap. She cries until Steve talks to her and tells her it’s okay.

Darcy wakes up the following morning with her face pressed into Steve’s neck. A smile takes over her face and she snuggles in closer.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rogers.” He says, voice raspy from sleep, but smiling. 

She wants him again, but their second time last night she’d felt his chest jumping and his breaths had shuddered. 

Instead she gets ready for a day spent inside with him. She pulls on one of her looser dresses, not bothering with a girdle. 

Steve’s apartment is a shotgun layout. There are no doors other than the front door and the door to the bathroom. She can see straight through the living room, with his worn couch and drawing table, to the kitchen where he stands with his pants unbuttoned and a sweater pulled over his mussed head.

She leans against the doorway and watches him until he notices her. 

He stops, his hand hovering over some toast on a plate. “I still can’t convince myself that this is real. That you actually married me.”

Darcy frowns. “Why do you say it like that?”

“I know you love me.” He shrugs his shoulder. “But it’s fact that you could have any man you wanted, even if you only looked like that, without everything else that makes you amazing.”

“You do know that I have my insecurities, right? I have stomach rolls when I sit down, I jiggle when I walk, I’m paler than your canvases, even in the dead of summer, and I have weird toes.” She walks into the kitchen and wraps her arms around him, bending her head to rest it against his back between his shoulder blades. “But I tell myself that you love me and that means you love all of those things. Just like I love every part of your body, like your heart, because it keeps you alive, even if it has to work twice as hard as everyone else’s.”

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around her. Finally he kisses her temple. “Darce, jiggling when you walk really, really isn’t a bad thing.”

Darcy laughs, bracing her forehead against his shoulder. 

“But you do have weird toes.” 

They eat cold toast with jam for breakfast with the radio on because Darcy always likes music.

They spend the morning rearranging the drawers and making room in the small closet. Darcy’s meager belongings are soon interfiled with Steve’s. Her case of copy work joins his briefcase of commissions by the front door. He moves the valet that had been his father’s over to the mirror so she can sit in the mornings while she does her hair and make-up.

They end up back in bed by lunchtime, but it’s slow. The touches are soft and lingering. He puts both his thumbs on her nipples and lightly drags the nails over until she’s twitching underneath him, and he slides in so slow that just before she’s about to grab onto him and try to yank him down, she comes in a long, delicious shudder of pleasure. 

Afterwards he brushes his hands over her body and she declares his toes not weird at all. In fact, his feet, like his hands, are rather pretty. He drags one of his canvases from behind the bed and holds it against her skin, ready to declare her not that pale. 

He opens his mouth and shuts it again, and his lips twitch.

“I told you.” Darcy tells him, pushing the canvas away. 

He traces a finger down her rib cage, his eyes following the movement before looking back up at her. “Well, I think it’s beautiful.”

“Draw on me.” Darcy leans up on her elbows to look down at her body. “Where no one can see.”

He draws the Brooklyn skyline just under her breasts, spanning her entire rib cage. It’s a waste of ink, but when she tells him, he shakes his head. Midway through he begins to dip his head, catching her nipple in his mouth. 

She ends up riding him for the first time, in order to prevent smudging the ink. 

The next week Steve and John both show up with wrinkled clothes and busted lips. Steve refuses to speak of it, but Rebecca gets it out of John.

Apparently some of the neighborhood busy bodies were on baby watch, because of course the only reason Darcy would marry Steve was if she’d gotten into trouble. Some thought she’d been sent from home to live with the Barnes already in the family way, others thought she’d gotten into trouble living in the big city without a man in the house to look out for her, and Steve took the fall as a family friend. 

It doesn’t bother Darcy, but it makes Steve livid to hear that people are even thinking that way about her, much less talking about it. 

They celebrate Christmas with the Barnes. Steve surprises her with a pair of warm winter gloves lined with velvet in sumptuous royal blue. She gets him more ink and paints. 

Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca give Darcy a new dress in emerald green, and Steve three dress shirts altered to fit him from the church bin. Darcy makes them a real apple pie, and they finish the entire thing that night.

Darcy had wanted to stay in on New Years, but Rebecca begs them to go to the Prescott’s party so that she can go. 

Darcy meets three more of John’s sisters. Gladys and Geraldine are just as snotty and poor mannered as Ruth and Evelyn, but Agnes is a treat. Darcy is almost certain that Gladys and Ruth spend the night purposefully talking quietly on Steve’s deaf side to embarrass him. Darcy spends much of the party talking with Agnes and her husband Charles before Rebecca comes to drag her outside.

Steve brings her coat and helps her climb up onto the carriage house with the rest of the younger party-goers to watch the fireworks. The fireworks are loud and smoky, but they’re away from the prying eyes of the older people and it’s nice to relax. She sits between Steve’s legs and leans back against his chest while Rebecca holds onto one of her hands.


	8. Chapter 8

“I think Bucky isn’t getting our letters.” Steve says, helping her over a puddle as he walks her to work. The weather had given them a break during the last week in January and the snow had all melted. 

Darcy doesn’t want wet shoes for the next eleven hours at work, so she lets him. She carries the umbrella, and he carries her case of copy work.

“He hasn’t said anything about the wedding.” Steve continues. “Or about you at all.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know what to say until he meets me? You know, the old saying that if you haven’t got anything nice to say you shouldn’t say it at all?”

Steve shakes his head. “I told him all about you. He’d have something to say.” 

“So the post office is losing your letters to him, but not his to you?” Darcy makes another jump over a puddle with his hand for support. Rain boots. She misses rain boots. Good old puddle stomping rain boots, with grip soles and fake fur lining and tiny little Mjolnirs and lightning bolts all over them.

And, you know, Thor. She misses Thor and Jane.

“It just doesn’t seem very likely.” Steve wraps his arm around her waist, lending her his body heat. “He hasn’t said anything about not getting any, but then again, we didn’t expressly say that we would write. We just assumed.”

“Four and half weeks though, right?” 

“February 27th.” Steve confirms. 

A car comes wheeling around the corner and they dash towards the shopfront, Steve moving between her and the street as water sprays up. 

Darcy had never been one to worry about clothing, but that had been before she’d had to spend hours working on a stain because she wouldn’t be able to afford another dress or pair of stockings whether the stain came out or not. One of the secretaries at the bank had been let go for coming in with a hole in her stockings.

They reach the bank just as Mr. Welker is unlocking the doors. 

“John will be here to walk you home.” 

“I know.” Darcy smiles.

“I’ll be home around ten. But you know that too.” Steve says with a wry smile. He kisses her cheek chastely, but hides a pinch to her hip with his coat. “Love you, Rogers.”

“Love you too, Rogers.” Darcy takes her copy work from him and hands over the umbrella. He follows her to the door as if she’ll melt if a single rain drop hits her.

When she tells him that later, he insists on verifying that she does indeed taste sweet enough to melt. 

Darcy spends most of the day working on the copy work. Mr. Welker had cut her pay another dollar to make up for the ink she uses, but she can’t bring herself to care. The bank work is steady income, and the copy work is often an extra five to ten dollars a week. 

The bank gets to pay an ace typist fourteen dollars a week, and Darcy gets to use their machine to pick up extra money in her down time. 

She and Steve put fifteen dollars a week towards the Barnes’s expenses, and Darcy knows John puts in another fifteen himself, though neither his parents or Mrs. Barnes know. (Except that Darcy is pretty sure Mrs. Barnes does know, and just pretends she doesn’t because there’s nothing she can do, especially now that she needs two pills a day for her headaches.)

John picks her up right on time, and dedicates himself to getting her, her dress, and stockings home safely as studiously as Steve did. He also talks nonstop about the wedding, which is planned for the only Saturday that Bucky is in town. John plans to enlist at the Stark Expo four days later, and Bucky will ship out the next day.

When they reach a massive puddle John wraps an arm around her waist and carries her over. When he sets her down he blinks down at her. “Sorry. I think I’ve taken you on as another sister. Rebecca certainly considers you as good as.”

The following week Darcy visits Prescott’s, the shop down at 118th. Surrounded by the fine materials and newest fashions, she’s suddenly very aware of her faded floral print dress and dingy stockings.

But Rebecca is on cloud nine, dragging Darcy back to see her wedding dress. For all that Mrs. Prescott might have been hoping for better for her son, it seems that Mr. Prescott is enamored with his soon to be daughter-in-law. President Roosevelt is talking on the radio, but otherwise the shop is quiet. 

Then Rebecca pulls Darcy to a long rack in the back and pulls out a blush pink dress. “And this is for you. To wear as my maid of honor. Don’t say anything about money, it’s already paid for and I did the work myself.”

Darcy runs a hand over the smooth material. 

“Now we just need to make sure it fits. Come on, this way.” Rebecca prattles about measurements and cake and something about the priest.

They end up in a back room piled high with fabrics. Rebecca shuts the door behind her and leans against it with a huff. “There isn’t any reason your measurements will have changed, is there? But I suppose it’s barely been two months.”

Darcy shakes her head, not saying that she and Steve always used ‘rubbers’. Darcy was still enough of a modern girl to not want kids for years, and certainly not ready to face the reality of childbirth in the 40s. Steve was determined to get enlisted, and absolutely refused to chance leaving Darcy behind with a baby as his mother had been during the Great War.

Darcy bends to pick up the dress, stripped to her girdle and stockings, when Rebecca catches her arm, holding it up. The Brooklyn skyline with the Brooklyn bridge is drawn in black ink on Darcy’s upper right arm, where it’s always hidden by sleeves.

Rebecca traces a finger over the ink, a small smile curving her lips. 

Darcy doesn’t show her the midnight blue iris, Darcy’s favorite flower, hidden by her girdle. She’d woken up with that one. 

The dress fits perfectly. Darcy smooths her hands over the waist and looks up at Rebecca. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be giving me gifts for your wedding.”

“Shut up, Rogers.” Using Darcy’s new surname always makes Rebecca smile, and this time is no different. “It was nothing to add it to the rest. And now you’ll have a pretty dress for going out. I can’t wait for Steve to see you in it!”

Just as Darcy feels she and Steve have fallen into a routine - he’s got a good job with regular hours again, enough commission work to keep him happy, they have dinner at the Barnes’ twice a week, and host them once - he gets sick again.

It’s something in his lungs that starts with raspy breathing, mostly at night. It worsens until Darcy can hardly sleep because sometimes he seems to stop breathing altogether, holding his breath until it shudders out in a great gasp. The doctor comes four days in and it’s another expensive prescription, another job lost.

Again Mrs. Barnes comes to sit with him during the days. Rebecca takes over for her and Darcy finds a second job as a typist when she’s turning in Steve’s commissions to Mr. Anderson. He agrees that its only until Steve is better. She works from six-thirty to ten-thirty making twelve cents a page, with another fifty-cent bonus for every two hundred pages typed.

Steve doesn’t even realize for five days. John picks her up three of the nights, and then twice Mickey O’Brien comes for her. She’s glad for it, walking home that late. There’s almost a sense of you get what you deserve towards young women walking alone at that time of night. It's ridiculous and Darcy wants to introduce every last one of them to her taser. 

Within a few more days, Steve is back up on his feet. He wants to go down to the docks and see about a job there again. The turnover is high. But Darcy convinces him, only once she cries, that it’s too cold and he’ll only get sick again.

Then Mickey O’Brien breaks his leg in a motorcycle accident on his delivery job, and gets Steve an interview first thing. Mrs. Barnes forces some of Bucky’s winter clothes on him, and that’s that. Steve is driving all over Brooklyn on a motorcycle and Darcy is praying to Thor he doesn’t meet the same fate as Mickey - and the last three delivery drivers. 

No matter what he picks her up from work and gives her a ride home. When he gets his first paycheck, Darcy quits the job with Mr. Anderson, who is kind enough to privately tell her she’d be welcome back anytime.

Steve gets back on at the paper, arranging the presses again. Darcy spends those nights with Rebecca and sometimes John. They listen to the mystery show and come up with the most outlandish guesses about the endings. Darcy has years of Scooby Doo banked and rocks this game, often having Rebecca holding her stomach as she laughs.

One time Rebecca slaps Darcy hard enough to hurt. “You almost made me pee in front of John!”

“Oh, not in front of John!” Darcy teases, a little too loud. John looks over his shoulder from where he’s pouring them a half a coke each with a querying brow.

“Nothing!” Rebecca sings too loudly, and Darcy snorts, which makes Rebecca giggle.

By the time Steve gets home, John is pretty much just sitting back and watching them fight the giggles. 

“They’re a right pair tonight.” John says as Steve pulls off his scarf, gloves, hat and coat.

“At least they’re easy on the eyes.” Steve observes, watching them with an amused smirk.

“Oh, I don’t know, your wife has been-“ Darcy throws Steve’s paperback Steinbeck at him.

“My wife has been what?” Steve asks, crossing the room. He bends and kisses the top of Darcy’s head. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“She’s been snorting.” Rebecca tattles.

Steve grins. “And I missed it?”

“Enough you.” Darcy shoos him away. Steve loves to tickle her until she can’t help but snort with laughter, and when he makes her do it in conversation he acts like he’s won an Emmy. “Go eat some dinner. It’s warm in the stove.”

“Don’t worry, she only made the biscuits.” Rebecca pipes in again.

Darcy flings herself back against the couch. “In my own home, you people treat me this way.”

The Steinbeck novel hits her in the stomach. Rebecca giggles so much she has to go calm herself in the bathroom, and John watches her go with the sappiest smile Darcy has ever seen.


	9. Chapter 9

The days leading up to the wedding - and Bucky’s arrival - are a mess. Ruth accidentally rips Rebecca’s veil, Mrs. Barnes’ sister arrives with her thirty year old son who is a complete smarm, and some kind of stupid chain letter money scam takes over the nation causing a run on dimes.

Darcy’s work at the bank quadruples thanks to completely freaking pointless bank notes.

Rebecca insists on traversing the pipes between the two apartments at least once. John holds onto her from behind, and Steve grabs her from the front. Rebecca rolls her eyes as Steve sets her on her feet.

The next day Rebecca scares the shit out of Darcy tapping on the window to be let in while Steve is at the newspaper.

That night a woman screams out on the street and Steve springs out of bed. Darcy leans out the window to see him standing in the street with several other neighborhood men, all in their bathrobes and hastily shoved on shoes.

It’s a good twenty minutes before Steve comes up carrying little Vera Adams. One of the stray dogs he’d warned Darcy against feeding had attacked Eunice Adams on her way to her shift at the hospital. It had bitten her hand. Mr. Grant took her to the hospital while Steve and some of the other men chased the dog off.

They get the girl settled on the couch with plenty of blankets to wait for her grandfather’s return.

Back in bed, Darcy presses herself against Steve’s cold skin, trying to warm him back up quickly, without trying to seem like that was what she was doing. Steve hated any time she acknowledged the possibility of his getting sick when he was healthy.

He was the most stubborn person she’d ever met, and she’d once wrestled Jane into a shower while force feeding her fluids.

Mr. Grant collects Vera an hour and half later. Darcy listens to the men’s voices from bed, with the covers pulled up around her nightclothes. When Steve comes back she can’t fall back to sleep again, and neither can he, so they trade touches and kisses until the sun comes up.

The next day is the wedding, and Darcy is ready to pull her hair out trying to deal with all of John’s sisters. Even Agnes is a pain, but it’s not her fault. She’s pregnant and something had happened with breakfast at Gladys’ house and it had not been had.

A nun finds her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just in time for Katherine to lose her two year old son. After he’s located in the confessional, Darcy realizes Steve and Bucky are nowhere to be seen.

Steve, the best man, had gone to pick up Bucky, who was walking Rebecca down the aisle, from the train. And they’d been meant to arrive an hour ago.

Darcy has asked three people if they’ve seen Steve when she gets yanked into a choir room by a panicking Rebecca.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on?” Darcy opens a window and pushes Rebecca’s flushed face there. “Nope, you stay. I _will_ mess up your hair.”

She totally wont. That shit took hours.

“Second thoughts? You need me to steal Steve’s motorcycle so we can make a getaway?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rebecca squawks. “Of course I’m not having second thoughts. But what if _he_ is? What if he regrets this? I’m nothing like his family, I’m not proper, I’m not-“

Darcy clamps her hand over Rebecca’s mouth and waits for her to stop trying to talk. It takes a while for her to run down. There is a reason that they became friends, obviously.

Rebecca takes deep breaths through her nose, then nods her head. Darcy lets her go and straightens.

When Rebecca stands up, she stares at Darcy with bright red spots on her cheeks. “Well.”

“Fuck.” Darcy says.

Rebecca’s lips curve up. Then she laughs. “Fuck.”

“Well, that was a hell of a pep talk.” A voice says through the window.

Darcy throws her purse and Rebecca shrieks and stumbles backwards. Darcy reaches for a taser that isn’t there, but Rebecca rights herself and launches herself towards the window.

“Bucky!”

A beaming face appears in the window, and soon a man is crawling through in army green. A hat comes through after him, but Rebecca pays it no mind, already throwing herself at her brother.

Steve crawls in next, and Bucky turns to Darcy.

“I guess I have you to blame for corrupting my sister?”

“She corrupted herself, I just brought the popcorn.” Darcy quips, and is rewarded with a loud laugh. Bucky’s eyes trace her up and down and she holds out her hand. “Besides that was all part of her pep talk for convincing me I was good enough for Steve even though I swear in church. I’m Darcy Rogers.”

“Bucky Barnes, doll. Glad to meet you.” He shakes her hand, a real handshake. His perusal of her became both less and more pointed.

“I was worried about meeting you, but I shouldn’t have. Steve has good taste. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Bucky agrees with a pleased smirk.

“There’s two of them, and you found them both.” Rebecca says, standing next to Steve, she smacks his arm. “And look how smug you look!”

Steve does look pretty smug, standing there grinning at them both.

“Alright you, go do best man things.” Darcy tells him. “Maybe let John know that everyone’s here and there _is_ going to be wedding today?”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve says, crossing the room to kiss her. He sets his hands on her hips, and the kiss is quick, but his thumb swirls over the iris. His eyes move over her, and Darcy feels a pleased shiver. “Nice dress. Ya look beautiful.”

Darcy sniffs. “Why do you smell like blood?”

“See you out there.” Steve kisses her cheek and disappears through the door.

Darcy watches him go with her hands on her hips, then turns back to eye Bucky. “He got in a fight and was late picking you up at the train.”

Bucky crows with laughter and herds them out of the room.

Mrs. Barnes goes to stay with her sister and her sister’s smarmy son for a week, leaving the apartment to John and Rebecca. They bring over a mattress from the Barnes apartment for Bucky to sleep on in the living room, and Darcy keeps the radio _on at all times_ given that Steve had been able to hear Rebecca’s giggles across the alley all those months ago.

The guys go out for drinks one night, and Darcy and Rebecca stay in with their own. Talk inevitably turns to sex, which when paired with alcohol, inevitably turns to giggles.

John and Steve come home to red faced wives tittering on the couch. John carries Rebecca home, and Steve helps Darcy out of her clothes and into bed. She’s nearly asleep when she thinks to ask after Bucky.

“He found a dame.” Steve presses a kiss to the skin behind her ear. “Go to sleep, gorgeous.”

Another day they all go out to Ebbet’s Field so Bucky and John could wish the Dodger’s luck for the upcoming season. Steve stands next to her with his hands in his pockets when both men press a hand to the gates.

He’s quiet until Bucky manages to pull him out of it.

On a night that Steve and Bucky are meant to go out for a drink together, Darcy is surprised when Bucky shows up at the apartment alone. She glances at the clock and sees that Steve had barely gotten out of work.

“Punk got held up at work. Said I should wait for him here.”

Darcy gives him a look. “He told you thunderstorms make me sad.”

Bucky shrugs and nods at the same time. “So what are we gonna do to cheer you up, dollface?”

Bucky ends up swinging her around the room, his boots louder than the thunder overhead. He has her out of breath with laughter, but she thinks she gives as good as she gets.

They end up sprawled on the couch. Bucky moves to hang out the window to smoke a cigarette and Darcy blocks his path with her foot. “I would not. In fact, turn the radio back up.”

Bucky’s brows wrinkle, then he winces, and then he laughs.

“I’m glad the punk found you.”

“Oh, me too.” Darcy says, overly serious.

“I think you might be perfect.”

“Au contraire. I'm wildly inappropriate, I can't sew, and I can't cook.” Darcy shifts on the couch and rubs her stomach, sticking out her lower lip. “Speaking of....”

Steve comes home to find Bucky frying up beef chuck sandwiches, the radio turned up loud, and two smirking brunettes in the kitchen.


	10. Chapter 10

Darcy has never seen such fanfare as the Stark Expo. Not even the Stark Expo she’d attended her senior year of high school on a road trip with friends. The thing is, crazy events are all about technology in the future. They’re all streamlined, and light shows appear and fireworks shoot out of nowhere.

Here everything is real, not projected on a screen. They really built eleven pillars of invention. All of the displays actually hold what they’re displaying instead of an interactive screen.

Darcy is annoying Bucky’s date, Clara. But Steve and Bucky are happy to follow her as she moves from one place to the next. She stops at a seven foot tall robot, staring up at it.

It looks nothing like Iron Man or any of Tony Stark’s robots, of course. It’s face is perfectly round and it’s eyes only light-up. It can’t respond to questions. In jerky movements, it smokes a cigarette.

Still, Darcy is captivated by it. She stays until the group next to them decides to have a cigarette with the robot, and the room starts to fill with smoke. Steve quietly clears his throat, trying to hide it.

She waits a couple minutes longer, then demands to be taken to the next exhibit. Bucky and Clara are in the back, his head dipped down close to hers. Steve rolls his eyes as he escorts Darcy out, but she tugs him over to their own dark corner and steals a kiss.

It ends when Steve has to clear his throat again.

Darcy rests her head on his shoulder, tipping it so his bony collar bone isn’t poking her, and he turns away to cough into his kerchief. She didn’t even like Tony Stark's drones, they creep her out. It was stupid for ‘Electro the Moto-Man’ to make her miss home.

“Darce?” Steve’s hands skim up and down her hips. “Alright, sweetheart?”

Darcy breathes in his familiar scent and nods, straightening. She forces a smile that only brings a raised eyebrow from Steve. “Can we grab some popcorn?”

On the steps of the exhibit three men that slur their words obviously look Darcy up and down. Darcy doesn’t miss the way their eyes flick over Steve, then jerk back to Bucky before they keep moving. She pretends not to notice, and Steve’s arm is stiff under hers.

She sits at a table at a ‘floating’ pavilion that extends out over the river with Clara while Steve and Bucky go for the popcorn. Clara checks her lipstick and pats at her hair.

Darcy wishes Rebecca and John were back, but then, John is at the enlistment station. When they come back he’ll have his training assignment.

She sees Steve and Bucky making their way back, each clutching a bag of popcorn. Her eyes catch on Steve’s, lips twitching at the anticipation and excitement there.

“What did you do?” Darcy asks him when he’s near enough.

“I got you a surprise.” Steve says, offering her the bag of popcorn. She notices Bucky is watching them, amused and intrigued. Clara huffs when she fails to get his attention.

“The popcorn?” Darcy asks, looking down at the bag. Had he paid extra for the kettle corn? She grabs a few kernels, then gasps at the little chunk of chocolate with a blue hard shell. “M&Ms?”

The kiss she plants on him is not appropriate for public, dimly lit or not, and the pavilion is not dimly lit at all.

Steve stares down at her with desire darkened eyes and a smile.

“The merchant thought Steve was nuts, buying a bag of candy and then smashing it.” Bucky says, watching them with a smile.

“You remembered.” Darcy whispers, taking another bite. The flavors of her favorite snack do a lot more for her than the blue lightbulb eyed robot.

“Brand new this year.” Steve tells her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Try some.” She has to insist to get him to even try one handful, and then he leaves the rest for her.

As she’d predicted, Steve’s mood plummets when John and Rebecca come back. Darcy stares at the mixture of pride and sadness on their faces and can’t make her mind stop bringing up everything she knew about the second world war.

The group is strangely tense as they make their way to the main exhibit, where Howard Stark himself will be talking.

Darcy grips Steve’s hand tightly as they find a place in the crowd, and then feels her stomach twist when Howard Stark takes the stage. He looks like Tony, only not. His mannerisms and movements. Even his voice, though Howard had a real New York accent and Tony didn’t. Steve doesn’t notice the way Darcy’s world spins.

“We’re going to go home.” Rebecca yells over the crowd.

“I’ll go with you.” Darcy turns and grabs her friend’s hand. Now Steve looks at her, a question in his eyes. But Bucky is leaving from the fair, and she wouldn’t take the next few hours from them. “I’m fine. You stay here with Bucky. Have fun.”

“I’ll see her home safe.” John promises. John, who’s leaving for training in only two days.

Darcy ignores Clara’s clinging and hugs Bucky tightly. “Stay safe.”

“Take care of him.” Bucky responds, and she wonders how his hugs could have come to feel so good in a only a week of knowing him.

Darcy shakes her head and kisses his cheek. “It’s gonna take two of us.”

After John and Rebecca say their goodbyes, they’re picking their way through crowds, out of the expo as applause swells, then stutters out at the sound of a small explosion.

“I’m still working out a few kinks.” Howard Stark’s voice echoes, garnering a smattering of adoring laughter.

Darcy rolls her eyes. Scientists.

Rebecca and John are subdued on the subway ride home. Darcy can’t blame them. She can’t imagine Steve leaving her for the battlefront.

He comes home very late. He slides into bed behind her and tells her to go back to sleep. She relishes the feel of his arms sliding around her, too tired to feel guilty about it.

She wakes up to the radio on low and the smell of breakfast cooking. It must be the last of the nicer foods they’d bought to have while Bucky was with them, because they normally have toast.

She takes care of her bathroom business, then walks through the apartment with her hands stretched out for her cup of coffee. “You’re up early after getting in so late. Couldn’t you sleep?”

He hands her the mug of coffee with a gentle, heavy look. Alarm shoots through her. “Steve?”

“Let’s sit.” He dishes up two plates and carries them to the table. Darcy follows him over and sinks into her chair. “Eat something.”

“Tell me what happened. Did someone get hurt?” Darcy scans him for any new bruises.

“I enlisted. I got accepted into a special program.”

Darcy’s hand actually goes to her chest, like in those old movies with the over dramatic actors. Except that it feels like her heart has dropped out of her chest.

“S’okay, doll.” Steve drags his chair over so they’re sitting knee to knee and takes her hands. “They’re sayin’ it’ll all be over by Christmas anyway.”

Yep, and that does it. Darcy is damn close to hyperventilating. She forces herself to focus on the important parts, just like when there’s a fire in the lab. Where are the extinguishers? Where is Jane? Can things be saved, and if so, what is priority? Is there a wormhole nearby?

“Special project?”

Steve nods. “I’ll report on Monday, like John, but I’m headed to a different camp. I won’t be able to write, but I’ll be through training in only six weeks.”

“Why can’t you write? Bucky got to write. What reason could they have to not let you write home?” Darcy asks him, not liking the sound of this at all. “Did you sign anything?”

“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s just a project they’re keeping quiet about for now. No one else gets to write home either, but I might be able to call you at the bank sometime.” Steve rubs his hands up and down her arms. “And I’m already all signed up.”

He reaches over to the kitchen counter, next to the toaster, and hands her a small piece of paper. It declares Steve Rogers, date of birth July 4th, 1918, to have been found acceptable for induction into all active military service.

“I know you’re scared, but I’d like it if you could be proud too.” Steve says softly.

“Oh, Steve. I’m always proud of you.” Darcy says, tears leaking down her face.

That night they have Rebecca and John over for dinner. They talk frankly about Mrs. Barnes, who had returned from her trip even weaker than before. About how Darcy and Rebecca will take care of each other.

They don’t talk about Steve’s special enlistment, other than to mention that he’s going to a different base than John.

Rebecca hugs her tightly at the door and whispers, “We’ll get through this.”

The next night they have dinner just the two of them. Steve had wanted to spend a little extra at the butcher for something nice, but after hosting Bucky and attending the Expo they’re strapped for cash. They have a couple pan fried sausage cakes and boiled rice.

Steve pulls her to her feet to dance in the living room when there’s a knock on the door.

Darcy stands back as Steve gets the door.

“Hey pal, I just wanted to check in on you.” Howard Stark paces into the living room, glancing quickly around, “Erksine says you’re the-“

Stark stops, staring at Darcy.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Howard. My friends call me Howard.”

“Howard,” Steve starts again, “this is my wife, Darcy.”

Darcy wants to punch the man when his eyes widen with incredulity. Steve moves into the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of whiskey they’d shared with Bucky.

“Hi-ya.” Howard says, folding his hands into his pockets to look Darcy over again.

Darcy smiles sweetly. “We’re on his deaf side.”

“Deaf side?” Howard repeats, glancing towards Steve.

“Mmm-hmm. You have any more trouble remembering where my eyes are, I’m going to electrocute you with the toaster. By accident.” Darcy lets her smile grow pointier. “Then, while you’re drooling on the floor, I’m going to tell him why I did it. He’s stronger than he looks.”

“I’m starting to see that.” Howard says.

“I hope this is alright. What did you want to discuss Mis- Howard?” Steve comes back into the living room carrying three small glasses of whiskey.

Howard accepts the whiskey and throws it back. “Well, pal, I was just making sure you weren’t letting the nerves get to you, but I can see you’ve got things well in hand.”

Turning to her again, Howard looks her straight in the eye with a quirk of his lips. “Kid, you need anything, you let me know.”

“How about you make sure he gets a phone call.” Darcy suggests.

“I’ll make it happen.” Howard promises, tipping his head to Steve and putting his hat back on as he walks out the door.

“What in the world are you doing that Howard Stark is involved?” Darcy asks, turning on Steve.

“They’re going to explain it all to me tomorrow. And Howard just promised you a phone call. I promise I’ll call and tell you everything, sweetheart. Alright?”

Darcy lets him pull her into his arms. “Alright.”

She tries to shake off her fears to give him a good last night, like they’d tried to give Bucky. They dance in the living room and Steve kisses her until she feels dizzy with it, with love for him.

He cleans up their glasses and goes to wash them in the sink, and Darcy waits in the living room for him to take her to bed.

She’s so filled with emotion that she’s shaking in the middle of her chest. She loves him so much, and she can’t imagine her life without his steady arm on the way to and from work, his teasing smiles. She grabs her purse to shove his enlistment receipt inside and notices she’d broken a nail.

“Darcy?” Steve turns to face her, holding a dish rag that had seen better days.

She hears the roar in her ears and is confused for only a second, and then she sees the lights.

“Darcy!” Steve drops the dish rag and runs for her.

“Steve!” Darcy reaches out, but she’s yanked away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who transferred this fic onto a flash drive so they could keep editing and posting on their night off? Yep. I swear, I'm not a cliffangery person.

She’s in another alley. Not the same alley. It reeks of garbage and heat radiates up from the ground. The sun beats down on her.

“Hi pretty lady.” A man lays on a pile of blankets. He smiles at her, showing his few remaining teeth. “Where’d you come from, huh?”

Darcy stumbles back from the slurring man. At the mouth of the alley a car goes by. An old car. And then another.

Her head spins, but she forces herself to take a deep breath. She’s not going to faint, and she’s not going to cry. She recognizes the street, she realizes with relief.

The man slurs behind her, his voice carrying.

She’s just a block from the bank.

Starting for the apartment, she pulls off her sweater. The street is different. The people are different. They walk faster, keep their heads down. The corner shop is closed, and so is the butcher’s.

In fact, everything looks dirtier. Less cared for. Darcy picks up her pace when someone catcalls her. An older woman yells at the man, and the man yells back.

She passes Mickey O’Brien’s apartment building and sees that the doors are nailed shut and most of the windows are broken.

She hurries around the corner and sees their apartment building. The doors are open and three kids sit on the stoop. Darcy has to use the handrail for support as she climbs the steps.

At their door, she straightens her shoulders and knocks instead of using the key inside her purse.

Someone yells inside the apartment and a child squeals. The door is yanked open and a woman with ruddy cheeks and wild hair stares out at Darcy. Past her, Darcy can see unfamiliar furniture and three small children.

“Whadda you want?” The woman demands.

Darcy’s mouth opens and closes, but all she can see is a green armchair where Steve’s easel had stood.

“Get outta here!” The woman yells, looking Darcy up and down with a sneer before she slams the door.

Darcy falls back against the wall, heart pounding in her chest.

“Darcy? Darcy Rogers?” A little old man asks, shuffling closer to touch her elbow.

“M-Mr. Grant?”

“Oh girlie. Come on to my place. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

He wraps a surprisingly strong arm around her and guides her down the dingy hall. They skirt around a pile of garbage and then he’s opening the door to his apartment. She’s been inside before, so she recognizes the tired couch and sagging armchair. The upright piano is still against the wall.

Mr. Grant gives her a cup of tea with a generous pour of whiskey in it. Darcy’s hands shake as she raises the cup to her lips.

“Are you here with anyone?” Mr. Grant asks her, easing himself down into the arm chair.

Darcy shakes her head.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He’s already standing back up, moving towards the kitchen.

She focuses on finishing her tea. He sets a plate in front of her. She recognizes liver loaf with brown pan gravy and canned beans.

Darcy sees the newspaper folded and resting on the arm of the couch. The paper crinkles in her tight grip and her hands shake so badly that she can’t read it at first.

**June twelfth, 1953.**

She sets the paper aside and eats mechanically. Mr. Grant escorts her to his daughter’s old room. Eunice had shared it with little Vera. There’s a metal bed frame, a dresser, wardrobe, and a small writing desk. He sets a glass of water on the side table along with two white pills the doctor had prescribed to help him sleep.

He insists he doesn’t like the way they make him feel and brings her a clean men’s nightshirt.

“You just get some rest, Mrs. Rogers. We’ll get you straightened out in the morning.”

Darcy takes the pills and lets them drag her down to sleep, hoping this is just a bad dream brought out by too much stress and the nightcap with Howard Stark.

But she wakes in the morning in the unfamiliar room, staring at faded yellow floral wallpaper. She decides she’s allowed to cry, just for a few minutes.

She wipes her face and gets dressed again, in the same dress she’d worn only yesterday, dancing with Steve in their apartment. She checks the contents of her purse and finds two dollars and sixty cents, three ration cards, Steve’s enlistment acceptance slip, and her warm gloves.

Then she realizes she’s crying again.

She gets it out of her system and straightens up, making the bed as she plans. She should have enough for a subway pass. She’ll go to Stark Industries. Howard _had_ just told her if she needed anything, she thinks with a slightly hysterical giggle.

Stark Industries had occupied the same building from its founding until late in the cold war, Darcy knew. So unlike anything else, she could trust that it would still be in place.

Mr. Grant knocks on the door lightly. He’s made breakfast.

Darcy eats scrambled eggs, fried ham, and buttered toast. He hesitantly hands her the newspaper, and keeps a running conversation up about his granddaughter Vera who is earning straight A’s in school and singing in the choir. There’s an article about President Eisenhower’s changes to the White House, and another featuring an interview with Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, the first men to reach the summit of Mount Everest.

Darcy insists on clearing up. When she finishes putting away the dishes, he’s standing in the living room, listing to one side.

“If you need anything, you come right on back.” He tells her firmly, then extends his hand with a piece of paper in it. “I want you to have this.”

Darcy bites her lip to keep from crying when she sees it’s not a piece of paper. It’s a picture. The man that had become Mr. Grant’s son-in-law had taken it, that last weekend.

Steve sits on the stoop railing next to Bucky, and Darcy stands between Steve’s legs. Bucky has an arm thrown over her shoulder. Rebecca and John sit on the opposite railing, and Mickey O’Brien, Tommy Kleiner, and Marion Prescott sit on the steps.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant.” Darcy breathes. She carefully stows the picture inside of her purse.

“And I want you to take this.” He holds out five dollars. “You ain’t gonna change my mind, missy, so jus’ take it. Some’a these hooligans forgot, but I remember the old neighborhood. We take care of each other.”

At the subway Darcy learns the fares have increased from five cents to fifty cents and she’s glad Mr. Grant had given her the extra money.


	12. Chapter 12

She’s afraid to spend another fifty cents to ride the trolley and instead walks from the subway station to the Stark building. The eleven pillars of invention are gone, along with all other remnants of the 1942 Stark Expo. All that’s left is the gleaming, boxy Stark Industries building.

There is no reception desk, only a lobby that leads to the elevators. Each elevator has an operator. The man nods at her and inquires which floor she needs.

“I need to see Mr. Stark.”

The man’s brows raise in surprise. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, sir. But I know that he’ll see me, and I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

She’s insistent through three underlings and two severely disapproving secretaries.

This attitude lands her a meeting in an office on the forty-first floor with a man called Donald Trent and his secretary Matilda.

“I understand you refuse to leave until you meet with Mr. Stark?” Mr. Trent asks her, hardly looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

“That’s right.”

“Mr. Stark is in London.”

“Well, can you telegraph him?” Darcy asks, now desperate. She’s running out of money and it’s now going on noon. It will take her another hour at least to return to the neighborhood.

Mr. Trent looks up at her and flatten his lips into a thin line. “Matilda, please retrieve Marge. Take Miss-“

“Mrs. Rogers.” Darcy repeats.

“Mrs. Rogers to the conference room.”

“Yes, Mr. Trent.” Matilda leads Darcy from the room, down the hall, and through a pair of paneled doors. The room smells of cigar smoke, and there’s an ashtray full in the middle of the table. There are also several highball glasses on the table.

“Please wait here.” Matilda says, her voice free from inflection.

Marge is a boxy woman in her fifties with snow-white hair and a no nonsense manner. She looks Darcy up and down in a way that makes Darcy think the woman has been through a lot.

“Mrs. Rogers, did you have a dalliance with Mr. Stark?” Marge asks once the door is shut behind Matilda. Marge moves to sit at one of the chairs, pushing a half empty glass away with a small sneer. “Have you come to present his child?”

Darcy blanches.

“Or do you perhaps want to sell him your expose?” Marge folds her hands on the table looks at Darcy over the rim of her glasses. “I can assure you, Mr. Stark will be uninterested in any of these news items. If your husband has a complaint, he can talk to Harold Robbins, the head of security downstairs.”

“Howard Stark was a... friend of my husband’s.” Darcy hides her shaking hands in her lap. “Mr. Stark told me to come to him if I ever needed anything. Here I am.”

“Mrs. Rogers, Mr. Stark uses that phrase as a salutation. I’m afraid that there is nothing we can offer you.”

“I need,” Darcy stops and takes a breath after her voice quivers on that word, “you to make sure that you inform him of my presence when you next contact him.”

“Mrs. Rogers, I’m sorry -“

“No. No, I’m sorry. I will be back tomorrow afternoon to check for word from him.” Darcy stands collecting her purse. “And then I shall return the next day. You will find that I am very persistent.”

The hotels nearer to the Stark Industries buildings cost $5.21 a night. Darcy asks after cheaper lodging and is directed west. She walks twenty-two blocks west until she finds an older hotel with cheaper rates. She books it for two nights for $4.10, haggling the front desk attendant down fifty cents.

The look he gives her tells her he sees it as charity. She doesn’t give a damn.

The next afternoon she is not allowed on the elevators at Stark Industries, but after she raises enough fuss, Marge comes down. They had not contacted Mr. Stark yet and would not do so until he contacted them.

The day after that, Marge is waiting for Darcy at 4:30. Darcy is damp with sweat all over in her winter dress after her mile long walk, and her feet have blisters.

“Mrs. Rogers, I must discourage from continuing on in this manner. I will mention your visit to Mr. Stark, but I will not see you again until such time as he instructs me to do so. Do you understand?”

Darcy nods with as much dignity as she can muster. And really, is this so much worse than the time she met Pepper Potts while arguing with the barista in a random coffee shop in LA about how many espresso shots she’d gotten while wearing her fuzzy Iron Man pajamas?

“Tell him I will leave word with the Barnes-Prescott family.” Darcy tells her, then hurries away to try to catch the cheaper rush hour fare back to Brooklyn.

It’s nearing six when she gimps up to Prescott’s, which is thankfully still operating. The door is locked however, and the lights are off inside. On the door it says Proprietor John P. Prescott.

John’s father Edwin must have passed the business on. Darcy knocks firmly on the door, hoping someone is working in the back.

“They’re already closed up, ma’am.”

Darcy closes her eyes at the man’s voice. Then she turns with a harried smile. “Oh, I hope you can help me. You see, I’m from out of to-own, and I’m lookin’ for Mr. Prescott’s wife. She’s my cousin, you see. Only I’ve lost the piece of paper with their address, and this place is a lot bigger than where I’m from.”

“Mr. Prescott’s wife?” The old man repeats.

“Rebecca? She was a Barnes, of course. I’m already meant to have been there.”

He nods. “You’re not very far off. They live about four blocks south. You’ll take a left onto Mulraney. They live in one of the brownstones.”

“Thank you!” Darcy gushes, almost forgetting to put on the southern accent she’d affected.

She has to ask for directions twice more, once she reaches the brownstones, to find the right house. It has a well-kept stoop and is a far cry from the apartment back in the neighborhood.

Darcy knocks on the door as the sun begins to set.

“Oh, come on. Come on, come on, come on.” She mutters when no one comes, and then knocks again, a little harder.

After a couple minutes, she sees the shape of someone moving beyond the curtains and the door opens.

“Darcy?” Rebecca wears a pale green bathrobe, and her hair is tousled. She’s pale, and pales further at the sight of Darcy on her stoop.

Darcy darts forward and braces her friend when she veers towards the door jamb.

“Darce? Is it really you?”

“It’s me. It’s me.” Darcy wraps an arm around Rebecca and fights tears. Her friend has changed. Rebecca is softer around the middle, a bit wider there, but frail in the arms. Her cheek bones are too pronounced.

“Come in. Get inside, and hell, help me back upstairs. I’m not meant to be out of bed.”

Rebecca locks the door behind Darcy, and then Darcy helps her up a wooden staircase to a bedroom upstairs. The bedroom has two large windows, and a big bed. There’s also two wardrobes, a valet, and a writing desk.

Rebecca clings to Darcy as she gingerly climbs into bed, and closes her eyes with what seems like exhaustion as soon as she’s in. But they open again, familiar dark brown eyes pinning Darcy, alert and inquisitive. “Sit!”

A tug has Darcy landing on the edge of the bed.

“Where have you been? Tell me everything! Steve said you disappeared again, right in front of him!”

“I haven’t been anywhere.” Darcy says. “Just a few days ago Steve and I had you and John over for dinner. Then I... left, and appeared here. I went back to the apartment, but- Mr. Grant let me stay for a night. And then I’ve been in a hotel for two days, and then I thought to go to Prescott’s.”

Rebecca’s hand tightens on Darcy’s wrist. “Days?”

Darcy tugs her wrist free and reaches for the buttons at her collar. After five buttons she can push the dress over her shoulder, revealing the fading Brooklyn skyline inked onto her upper arm.

With a light touch, Rebecca traces a finger over it.

“Rebecca.” Darcy looks her friend straight in the eye. “Where’s Steve?”

“Oh, Darce.” Rebecca’s eyes fill with tears. “Darce, he didn’t come home. Neither did Bucky.”

Darcy feels her world crumble. “No. No, no, no. Please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rebecca says, wrapping an arm around Darcy’s shaking shoulders.

“But Steve,” Darcy chokes out, and then can’t continue. But Steve. It’s Steve. He promised, and he always kept his promises. He was as steady as the sun, always waiting in the hall outside the apartment, leaning against the building outside the bank.

Waking her up every morning with kisses on the back of her neck. She cries herself sick and has to stumble into the bathroom across the hall. Then she starts again and she just can’t stop.

Rebecca comes for her, bracing herself against the wall. She pulls Darcy back to the bed, tucks her in, and wraps Darcy up tight in her arms. Only those thin arms banded around her keep Darcy from falling completely apart.


	13. Chapter 13

Darcy wakes still in Rebecca’s bed. Rebecca sits against the headboard next to her, feeding a tiny baby cradled in her arms.

“This is James Jonathon.” Rebecca says softly, reaching over to trace the curve of Darcy’s cheek. “I planned to name my second Steven, but we’ve had some trouble and the doctor doesn’t think -well. That’s for another day.”

Darcy can’t bring herself to respond. She breathes in and out, and feels nothing. Still somehow, she can feel tears close at hand.

“And here’s John with breakfast for us.” Rebecca says. “She’s awake now, John.”

Darcy hears the clink of glassware behind her, but doesn’t bother to turn. It doesn’t matter, hands slide under her arms and she’s turned over, then pulled up. John cradles her in his arms and lap, bending over her to tuck himself around her.

“Oh, Darce. I’m so damn sorry. But thank god you came back to us.” He tightens his arms around her when she begins to cry. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of everything. You’re with family.”

The only thing that rouses Darcy those first weeks is baby JJ. Rebecca’s pregnancy and labor was hard. She’s on bed rest for the foreseeable future. When John is home, he waits on them both hand and foot.

He sets up lunches in the garden and carries Rebecca to the table. He brings Darcy trays of food when she refuses to leave her bed. He says nothing about waste when she doesn’t eat.

But when he’s gone, Darcy wakes at JJ’s first cry. She carries him to Rebecca’s room. She keeps a fresh glass of water on Rebecca’s night stand, and makes sandwiches and sliced fruit for lunch.

John buys a tabletop radio for in the bedroom, and starts carrying Darcy in on the mornings she doesn’t get up on her own, leaving her in bed with Rebecca.

Rebecca talks about the war. About the special project that had made Steve some kind of super soldier they’d given a campy name to. That they’d received letters of condolences after Bucky had gone missing in action, but that Steve had rescued him and the rest of his unit months later.

Of course he did, Darcy thinks. The man that could be counted on to look out for the neighborhood girls, to chase off the vicious stray dogs in the middle of the night.

When Rebecca mentions the Howling Commandos, Darcy moans. She’d heard that name before. During history classes she’d passed notes through. World War Two heroes, legends.

Damn you, Steve.

“Bucky died in the winter of ’45. Steve was there.” Rebecca’s eyes are glazed with the memories, her fingers idly playing with her son’s hair. “He wrote me a letter, after. It damn near broke my heart all over again. And Steve, he had to put his plane down only a couple months later. No letter, then.”

“Put it down?”

“There was something on it. Headed for New York.” Rebecca shrugs her shoulder. “Never would say what, damn them. But Steve put it down.”

“Big damn hero.” Darcy whispers.

“I’m just glad Ma had already- Well, that she didn’t have to say goodbye.”

Darcy just nods to herself. She’d assumed. That Mrs. Barnes was gone. It’s just another little stab.

Four weeks after Darcy arrived, the doctor ended Rebecca’s bed rest as long as she took it easy. The neighbors all had been told that Darcy was family that had come to help with the baby, and that was what Darcy did.

By mid August Rebecca is recovering quickly. Her appetite has returned and she moves easily through the house. She draws up dresses for Darcy, and John brings several of them home.

Business is good. The house is easily five or six times the size of the old apartment. There’s a piano in the living room, and the fridge is always filled with food, including fresh fruits and vegetables.

They spoil JJ, spending afternoons in the backyard with him in a sunbonnet. John surprises them with a weekend away at his parent’s house in the country. They swim in the river and stay up late on the porch.

It’s the first time someone treats her as a widow. Darcy takes a solitary walk through the woods after that. Gladys comes and finds her, and Darcy is surprised she’s changed.

“I lost Clyde. Le Rives.” Gladys says, like that should mean something to Darcy. “Now Mama thinks I should remarry. Who, I ask her? Who? It’s been nine years, but...”

Darcy’s jaw trembles.

“And who would love Willie and Sue the way Clyde would have?” Gladys offers Darcy a cigarette from a slim gold case. Darcy shakes her head and watches Gladys pull out her lighter. The other woman still wears her ring, and Darcy figures that’s why she’d been comfortable approaching Darcy. “I don’t want someone else.”

Darcy wraps her arms around her middle and nods.

“Mama says I’m living in my grief. So what if I am? It’s mine. I can do with it what I want.” Gladys blows out a long stream of smoke.

Screams come from the yard. The two hellion children. Willie and Sue. Darcy can just hear John’s voice and the screams cut off.

Gladys looks at Darcy with a smirk. “Besides, she doesn’t know how it is. The single men died in the war just like the married ones. And I’ll not tie myself to a buffoon like Evelyn’s oafish husband just to have someone.”

“I can’t even think about it.” Darcy says, shaking her head at the very thought.

In early September, someone knocks on the brownstone door and John leads Howard Stark into the living room.

He smokes half a pack of cigarettes in the back yard and takes nips from his flask while Darcy questions him.

“He told me that you just disappeared, didn’t have a choice. It was after Barnes died.” He says, eyes darting over her, his movements filled with restrained energy. “I thought you just left him. But he was my friend, and he made me promise to help you if you ever took me up on my offer. If you ever needed it.”

He leaves with a promise to come back to pick her up the next morning.

Darcy explains to Rebecca and John that she has to know. John gives her fifty dollars and tells her she always has a home with them. Rebecca makes her promise to come back.

Howard is animated and strange in the car. He introduces his driver as Jarvis, and Darcy can’t call him that. His first name is Edwin, which he protests is too informal. They settle on EJ, and Howard watches with amusement.

They drive for two and half hours to Stark Mansion.

Howard has boxes of Steve’s things. Things he’d managed to gather from the neighborhood. He’d purchased Steve’s father’s watch from the shop down the street, he had large folders of Steve’s artwork, and had even recovered Steve’s mother’s mother of pearl ring.

He also has Steve’s things from the war.

Or, Captain America’s things.

Darcy’s knees had given out then. Steve had been Captain America. Captain America and the Howling Commandos.

Then she’d thrown herself at Howard, hitting and punching and scratching.

“What did you do to him? What did you do?”

“Nothin’ he didn’t sign on for, kid.” Howard grabs her arms and holds her wrists tight. “He was my greatest accomplishment.”

“He wasn’t your accomplishment.” Darcy sobs and she can see the pictures of him after the experiments on the table. She doesn’t recognize the keening sound coming from her as she cries. “He wasn’t- He was-“

Howard catches her under the elbows and holds her up. His head jerks and he looks at something over her shoulder. Darcy turns and sees a woman in a maid’s uniform.

“Get out!” Howard booms.

She doesn’t know if he’s protecting her or Captain America.


	14. Chapter 14

Darcy pours through everything Howard has on Steve. The Howling Commandos missions. Movements behind enemy lines. Speeches Steve made. Even transcripts of a meeting with President Eisenhower.

She can’t stand to look at the pictures though. That’s not Steve. It’s not until she sees a video of him laughing with Bucky that she can accept it. Then she sees that he still had his gorgeous eyes, that his lashes stayed the same, ridiculously long.

His hands, while larger as he points to things on maps, are still fine boned artist’s hands. Howard is more than willing to go through it all with her, and tell her a hundred stories over drinks.

He drives back to the city for work, but takes long weekends every weekend to stay out with her. He has a butler, maids, and a cook and has them all cater to Darcy’s needs.

She goes for dinner with Rebecca and John every Thursday, and weeks turn into months. With Howard’s help, Darcy traces Steve’s path across Europe.

One night, with a bottle of whiskey at hand, Darcy listens to Steve’s last conversation with Peggy.

“I think he wanted the chance.” Howard slurs, motioning with his glass. “He wanted hope for something good again. Those two had a hundred chances, but they could never... I gave them rooms in my London house.”

Darcy thinks she loves Peggy Carter for being that voice for Steve on the other side of the radio. It physically hurts her to think of Steve on that Valkyrie without Bucky.

Darcy doesn’t cry that night, but Howard does. He starts when Peggy says, “I’ll get Howard, he’ll figure out a way...”

She wrestles the bottle away from him and pours him into bed. He’s snoring as soon as he hits the mattress.

Howard starts bringing work home, and Darcy starts poking through it and managing him. Food, water, sleep, an extra set of eyes on equations.

He stops going to work every week and spends weeks at a time at the mansion. When John goes on a buying trip to France, Rebecca and JJ come to stay at the mansion. Howard takes one look at the baby and has sudden business in London.

When he comes back he’s grim, muttering about someone trying to frame him. He warns her to use her maiden name with people she doesn’t know, that it’s not safe for her. He has dark circles under his eyes.

She drags him to Christmas with John and Rebecca. He tries to convince her to go to London for New Years, but she stays with John and Rebecca instead. JJ has John’s pale hair, but Rebecca’s dark brown eyes and Darcy loves him to pieces.

If Howard gives her mind something to do to keep going, Rebecca, John and JJ coddle her broken heart until it can start working on its own again.

Rebecca gives her things she’d smuggled from Steve’s apartment. Some of Darcy’s dresses, some of Steve’s smaller drawings and paintings, Steve’s parents’ marriage certificate, and Steve and Darcy’s.

Howard lets her store them in his vault.

After the excess of the holidays, he settles more into himself, and they get to work again. He shows her the vault under the mansion. They’re in the middle of a bender, and Howard’s just terrorized the poor cook, when Darcy feels a familiar pricking sensation.

“Tell John and Rebecca!”

Howard looks up in confusion, his hair wild. His eyes bug out and he drops his scotch. “What? Damn, kid! Fridays, six pm, Broad and Halls Ferry!”

She’d just cleared the New Year and made it eight months this time.


	15. Chapter 15

It’s another alley. This time, Darcy’s hair is immediately plastered to her head by rain. She’s standing ankle deep in swirling water. Wind whips the rain in all directions, and thunder booms overhead.

It’s hard to even walk forward, then the wind shifts and she almost face-plants. She makes it to the street, but she can’t see farther than a few feet in front of her.

During a particularly strong gust of wind she ends up clinging to a sign post.

“Give. Me. Your. Hand!” A man yells.

Darcy turns her face away from the rain and looks. A man is a few feet away, reaching for her. Another man holds his other arm, and clings to the closest building, making a chain.

She lunges for the man, and they tow her in. It’s a barber shop. The man practically shoves her into one of the seats. The water is rising.

“Where did you come from, lady? Are you crazy?” One of the men demands.

“Don’t yell at the poor thing, Amos.” Another man, this one dry and much older, commands. He shoves a paper cup in Darcy’s hand, filled with steaming dark liquid. “Have some coffee.”

Darcy shivers as she takes a sip. She sees a newspaper on the next chair and reaches for it, dripping water onto it. _Hurricane Esther!!!_  , the headlines scream.

**September 21, 1957.**

 The front window breaks in the wind. The old man covers her with his coat. Two more people come in seeking refuge and the water reaches a foot deep.

Darcy makes a fresh pot of coffee and reads the newspaper. It’s Friday. She figures out where she is. How far it is from Broad and Halls Ferry.

By five-thirty the storm has calmed a little. It’s still pouring, but the wind isn’t uprooting things. Two of the men try to fight her on it, but she leaves.

The current is against her as she slogs to Broad Street. She’s soaked through in a matter of minutes, and shivering again after five.

When she reaches the corner of Broad and Halls Ferry she sees a very nice car parked at the curb with foggy windows. When she draws nearer she finds EJ turned around, arguing with Howard in the back seat. Darcy knocks on the window, and Howard turns.

His eyes go wide, then he bursts out of the back seat and yanks her inside.

“You looked like a drowned rat, kid.” Howard says, shrugging out of his coat. “To the apartment, Jarvis.”

Howard covers her with the coat like a blanket.

It takes them two hours to pull up to a big fancy building near Stark Industries. EJ drops them off at the doors, and the door person rushes forward with a big black umbrella.

The elevator moves swiftly up to the top floor. Howard’s apartment is done in aqua and gleaming gold. All of the furniture is low-slung and modern.

“What’ll it be? Whiskey? Caviar? I can have something delivered.”

“Is jet lag a thing yet?” Darcy asks him, he gives her a blank look mid-pour. “I haven’t slept in twenty-six hours since we were working on the modified compounds and then I was in the middle of a hurricane.”

“Modified compounds?” Howard waves his hand, then holds out her drink. “Bedroom’s through there. Night clothes are in the left armoire.”

By night clothes, he meant ladies night clothes. Nice ones. Darcy prays to Thor they’re clean and pulls on a slip. She wraps a towel around her damp hair and crawls into the large bed.

When she wakes the clock reads nearly noon and the sun is shining through the literal wall of windows. Darcy’s bones ache and she feels a cold coming on.

She drags herself into the shower, pins her hair back, and finds women’s clothes in the other side of the wardrobe. With disbelieving eyes she stares at a pair high-waisted slacks.

“Oh, hells yes. Pants. I love you.” Darcy pulls them free, along with a white button up shirt. Katherine Hepburn-esque.

The pants are a bit tight, even with her girdle, but it’s worth it. Soooo worth it.

Darcy walks out of the bedroom in search of coffee. Howard is at a desk in the living room on the phone.

“I know what you’re saying, and I’m saying no.” Howard barks. “Get the president, I’d like to see him try!”

He hangs up and a woman in a sleek blue dress immediately dials another number while he victoriously pushes a pile of papers away.

“Peg! You called.” Howard leans back in his chair. “I called? Oh! I’ve got her, Peg. Picked her up yesterday.”

The secretary notices Darcy and clears her throat. Then clears it again when Howard ignores her. Then again, even louder.

“Howard!” Darcy calls. “Your secretary would like you to know I’m here.”

He spins in his chair, flapping his hand at the secretary who scurries out of the room. Speaking into the phone, he looks questioningly at Darcy. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Darcy shakes her head and inhales through her nose, giving an impressive sniffle.

“Not tonight. Why don’t you meet us upstate Friday night, make a weekend of it? It’s a plan then!” Howard declares, and Darcy moves on.

The kitchen is all gleaming appliances and empty counter tops. Darcy groans and starts opening cupboards.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Rogers?”

“Holy hellcats, you scared me EJ!” Darcy scowls at him as Howard comes in. “In the morning too. You’re lucky I don’t have my taser.”

“I’m sure, Mrs. Rogers.” EJ responds drily.

“Coffee, Jarvis. She needs coffee.” Howard looks around the kitchen. “Which is here somewhere.”

“Indeed.” EJ says with an arch look.

“What would you like? Jarvis can make everything. Crema? Au lait?”

“I don’t have words to describe how I will feel if you give me a cafe mocha.” Darcy says, honest-to-Thor feeling a bit light headed at the thought. “Which is a big deal. I have a lot of words.”

“A cafe mocha?” EJ frowns at Howard and Howard frowns back.

“A latte? With chocolate? And whipped cream.” Darcy closes her eyes imagining home. Whipped frappe creations with crumbled Oreos on top. Pumpkin lattes in the fall, mint lattes in the winter.

Darcy ends up with something that’s close enough.

The next day, at the mansion, three coffee cups are set in front of her at the breakfast table. She looks up at EJ through bleary eyes, the cold having come on full-scale. “EJ, whaaa?”

“Please choose which is the closest approximation of the beverage to which you are accustomed.” EJ tells her, then sets a golden Kleenex box in front of her.

Darcy sips each and chooses the middle one before wrapping her arms around the tray protectively. “I’m keepinmb dem all.”

“Very well, Mrs. Rogers.” EJ glances towards the door and rolls his eyes. “Mr. Stark would like me to inform you that urgent business has arisen and we’ll see you on Friday.”

“Dum friend you are, Stark!” Darcy yells.


	16. Chapter 16

Howard keeps the staff busy receiving packages for her. Somehow he knows to send M&Ms, which makes Darcy cry again, which scares the maid. It’s just that Steve would have had to have told him.

She also receives a big metal box. The maid stops her from opening it.

“It’s a film reel, Miss Lewis.” The maid answers, and this time, Darcy manages not to wince at the sound of her maiden name. Howard insists that the staff not know her real identity. “It wont work if you expose it to light.”

“Film reel? He sent me a movie?” Darcy asks in disbelief. Howard Stark just 50s version Netflix mail’d her. She turns the box over and finds a handwritten label. “ _An Affair to Remember_.”

The maid gasps.

“Big deal?” Darcy asks her, reaching for another Kleenex. Being sick at Howard Stark’s mansion is kind of the best. Her golden tissue box never runs out, lattes are delivered every morning, and the doctor makes daily house calls.

“It’s only just come out.” The maid gushes. “It has Cary Grant in it!”

“How do I watch it?”

“In the theater, miss. Bernard will run it for you.”

“Can I eat in there?” Vegging in front of a movie is sounding real good right about now.

“In the theater?”

“Yeah. I can eat dinner.”

“During the movie?” The maid clarifies again.

Vegging is apparently not a thing. But it’s okay, because in the world of Howard Stark’s scarily well-trained staff, any thing can be a thing.

Darcy is set up with a tray in the theater, and dinner is served there. She requests a blanket and has her choice of three. She wonders when these people will learn as she takes all three.

On her third day she wakes up feeling slightly better. Midway through her shower she can breathe clearly again, and she gets shampoo in her eyes when she realizes she hasn’t contacted Rebecca and John.

And JJ will be.. four. Four years old.

Darcy calls Howard at his office, and his secretary Lorraine tracks him down.

“Hey kid, did you get the violinist?”

“Violinist? What?”

“Never mind.”

“Yes, never mind, I just realized I haven’t seen Rebecca or John. Do they have a phone yet? Do they live at the same house?”

“Already called them. Well, Jarvis did. They’ll be there Friday. A driver is bringing Mrs. Prescott and young JJ up in the morning, and Mr. Prescott will arrive in evening.”

Darcy sits back in her seat. “I don’t care if you’re only doing this for Steve, you’re a good friend and I’m calling you one of mine.”

“Hey, what’s this? I’m bringing you an entire stack of lab notes, and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.” Howard says.

“Bring it on Howard.”

Of course then she has a coughing fit and Howard almost laughs her off the phone.

“Say kid, did you hear about the Dodgers?”

“What about them?” Darcy asks. It’s too early in the season for them to be in the pennant race. Again.

“O’Malley’s moving them.” Howard says. “Out to L.A.”

“What the fuck?” Darcy demands, even as it clicks into her brain. The LA Dodgers. “They can’t leave Brooklyn. They’re the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers! They’re our bums! What the actual-“

Howard hangs up, the coward.

She’s still worked up when the violinist arrives to give Darcy an afternoon show in the music room. He takes himself very seriously, and the staff lines up in the hallway, so Darcy suspects that she’s getting a very rare treat.

At the end he bows with an abrupt flourish, his hair flopping on his head. Darcy bites back a smile and applauds him.

Thursday she feels nearly as good as new, and she can hardly sit still for her excitement at seeing Rebecca again.

She takes a walk around the grounds. The staff bundle her up like she’s about to mount an excursion to Antarctica. They pester her to choose what she’d like for dinner when she comes back, and to take a nap.

The nap was mentioned several times. Darcy can recognize when she’s being wrangled. But she also wants to wake up early in the morning, so she requests Italian and retreats to her bed.

She’s watching the news on the television when someone interrupts her dark cave of solitude.

“I heard someone wanted Italian.” Howard says. “I come bearing the best in the state.”

Howard eyes her set up in the theater with amusement, but is a willing participant. They split the enormous spread he’d had brought in from some fancy restaurant.

They lounge under blankets and Howard toes off his shoes.

Midway through the second movie he has an idea and drags Darcy down to his make-shift lab.

She abandons him at midnight, not wanting to sleep through any of Rebecca’s visit. He hardly notices her exit.

The following morning Darcy is waiting on the front steps when Howard’s car pulls to a stop. Rebecca practically flings herself out of the car and into Darcy’s arms, squeezing her tightly.

“I’ve missed you so!” Rebecca declares fiercely.

“I’ve missed so much!” Darcy replies, because while she’d seen Rebecca only a week ago, she’d missed four years. As if to illustrate the fact, a small blonde boy climbs out of the car. “Oh, bananaballs, is that JJ?”

“JJ, come see your Aunt Darcy.” Rebecca holds out her hand.

The boy looks up with inquisitive dark eyes. “The good one?”

Rebecca grins. “John teases his sisters with that,” she leans closer, “but it’s true.”

“You’re pretty.” JJ says solemnly, then he grins a crooked grin that’s one hundred percent Bucky. For a second Darcy feels as if she’s been punched in the stomach.

“You’re a charmer, Mr. Prescott.” She accuses formally, and it makes him giggle and there’s Rebecca.

JJ is provided with a croquet set while Darcy and Rebecca share a small hot brunch spread nearby. JJ quickly abandons the mallets and instead throws the balls one after another, then runs to where they landed to throw them back.

“He’s so big.” Darcy winces. “I hate when people say that, but for me it was just a couple weeks ago that I held him in my lap at Christmas.”

“In some ways it seems like that to me too.” Rebecca admits. “But when it comes to you, it’s been every bit of the four years. When Howard called John wanted to drive up to get you.”

“John’s still coming tonight?”

“He could hardly wait, but he needed to stay at the shop to finish up an order for Howard so he could bring it up with him.” Rebecca catches Darcy’s hand. “You are happy here, right?”

“He wouldn’t be able to keep me away from you if I wasn’t.” Darcy promises. “John’s doing work for Howard?”

Rebecca waves her hand. “Howard does almost all of his commissions through John now. We don’t do the ladies formal wear, but just about everything else we’re responsible for. And you’ll never guess what John is bringing up for you.”

“Howard is a giant softie. And so is John.” Darcy winces as JJ loses his balance and topples over. The boy bounds back to his feet and chases after a wayward ball. “What? What is he bringing? You two have the best surprises.”

Rebecca laughs, the same bright laugh Darcy remembers from nights sharing that narrow bed across from Steve’s window. “Pants, Darcy. At least three pairs. And a few new dresses. Styles have changed quite a bit.”

Darcy keeps her hands curled around her coffee cup and just looks at Rebecca.

“What?” The other woman asks.

“Tell me everything. Everything I’ve missed.”

“I’ll just hit the highlights, shall I?” Rebecca teases. “Erwin passed away, just after you left. Maureen isn’t doing well now either, but she’s moved in with Geraldine and Monty.”

“John and I bought the country house so the family can still use it. I’ve miscarried again, so there’s that.”

Darcy grabs for Rebecca’s hand at the flash of pain in her friend’s eyes.

“And JJ, he’s so bright. He already knows his letters and numbers. And he can sew a slip stitch.” Rebecca laughs, but it comes out watery. “He knows cap sleeves from puffed from trumpet.”

“And your marriage?”

“John is wonderful.” Rebecca dabs under her eyes and smiles. “I - it’s hard, but I always remember how lucky we are. I got him back, and we’ve got JJ. How are you Darcy, how long has it been for you? Not that long, right?”

“Since Steve?” Darcy asks. “Less than a year, for me. It’s funny though, because now I’ve been without him longer than I had him. I decided that would make it hurt less, and then promptly realized I’m an idiot who knows nothing.”

“Darcy.” Rebecca reaches across the table to brush her fingers over Darcy’s hair.

“I was doing so well, and then this morning I dreamed I was in bed with him. Just sleeping, you know? And when I woke up, for just a second, I thought he was there.” Darcy shrugs. “And then he wasn’t. It just seemed so damn real for a second. I could smell him.”

Rebecca’s eyes fill up with tears. “When I woke up today, I forgot I wasn’t pregnant for a few minutes.”

Howard comes out twenty minutes later to find them with their arms wrapped around each other, each sporting red rimmed eyes.

“This won’t do.” He states, looking at them with his hands on his hips. He looks out to the yard and winces. “He’s doing it wrong.”

“Howard.”

“Drinks!” Howard turns to the maid that has followed him out with a bottle of whiskey and several glasses. He turns and looks at Rebecca, eyes narrowed. Darcy holds up three fingers behind Rebecca’s back and Howard nods, with a wince that was there and gone so fast that Darcy nearly missed it.

Howard insists on pulling them out of their seats to join JJ on the lawn for a game of croquet.

They play croquet and sip drinks. JJ runs circles around them until he suddenly comes to lean against his mother with his thumb in his mouth. A butler appears out of nowhere and offers to take him back to the house for a nap. JJ trustingly holds out his arms and is carried away.


	17. Chapter 17

Darcy wakes a few hours later and brushes her teeth before searching out Howard. She finds him in the study with JJ, a vein bulging in his head.

“Why do you think that car can fit in that garage?” Howard asks, clinging to his glass of scotch.

“Because.” JJ answers simply, not looking up from his toys, and Howard twitches.

“Who wants to go on a walk?”

“Oh thank god.” Howard says at the same time that JJ leaps out of his seat proclaiming, “Me, me, me!”

JJ is exuberant on the walk. He darts around, bringing Darcy back pine cones, rocks, and brightly colored fall leaves. Darcy keeps only her very favorite of each, but towards the end of the walk when she drops a golden yellow leaf in exchange for a bright red one, JJ stares down at the abandoned leaf before picking it back up.

“For mama.” He says, holding it to his chest.

When they circle back to the house, John is there leaning against the hood of his car smoking a cigarette.

“Daddy!” JJ takes off across the yard. Darcy follows cradling their treasures.

Darcy slows, studying John from a distance. He’s wearing dark slacks, a suit jacket with the tie undone, and has a briefcase at his feet. At this moment, admiring JJ’s yellow leaf, he looks like the stereotypical 50s father.

Then he turns to look back at her, putting his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He sets JJ on his feet and takes off at a jog towards Darcy.

“I think I might have wished you into existence.” He says when he reaches her, wrapping her in a tight hug and lifting her off her feet. “Did you talk-“

“We did.”

He nods, shadows in his eyes. “She takes it so hard. So do I, but Becca...”

Darcy nods that she understands.

He catches her chin in his hand and tips her face up. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

The pet name steals her breath, and John grimaces as he pulls her into another hug. She sits out on the patio with John while he smokes and JJ eats an early dinner.

“I surprised her with a trip. I thought we could leave JJ with one of my sisters, and she could accompany me to the Paris fashion show. I booked everything.” John motions with his cigarette.

“That sounds nice.” Darcy says cautiously, because his tone leads her to believe it hadn’t been received well.

“She hates to hear about people treating the Japs poorly in the neighborhood, but apparently she holds a grudge against the entire country of France. Refuses to so much as set a toe in it.” He exhales a large cloud of smoke. “That’s where-“

“I know.” Darcy cuts him off, not wanting to hear it out loud. Bucky had fallen from the train in occupied France. In his quest to document everything Captain America, Howard had commissioned photographs of the icy ravine.

“Then I thought Hawaii, but Pearl Harbor.” He holds out his hands.

Bucky had enlisted after Pearl Harbor had been bombed.

“I can stand Hawaii.” Rebecca says from behind them. She smiles when John looks at her over his shoulder. “If I have to.”

John holds out an arm for her, and Rebecca comes to sit in his lap. A few minutes later they take JJ up for bed. Rebecca and Darcy change together for the party, doing up each other’s buttons like they were back in their shared bedroom.

Rebecca does Darcy’s hair, running the brush through it until it’s soft and shiny, then pinning it up expertly. John knocks lightly on the door and lets himself in.

“He wants you.” He says softly.

Rebecca smiles and gives Darcy’s hair one last pat before going to see to JJ. John holds out a hand to help her from her seat, then leads her in a twirl, looking her up and down critically.

After those weeks spent with them when JJ was a baby, Darcy is long used to these moments.

“I knew you’d be a knockout in this get up.” He pinches the fabric of her dress at the shoulder and gives it a small tug, smooths down the back, and adjusts the waist.

It doesn’t take Rebecca long to regain her earlier level of drunkeness, and John catches up to her. John takes them both to the dance floor several times before the couple finds a seat and end up cuddled together, faces close as they talk.

Darcy dances with Howard once, earning herself laser eyes from a blonde in a slinky green dress. One of Howard’s friends asks her for a dance, then one more. The music turns slow and Darcy feels awkward being held close to the man.

“Sorry Georgie, I’m afraid I have to interrupt.” Howard says, and George steps back.

Darcy takes Howard’s arm and he leads her from the center of the room, out from the middle of the swaying couples. She turns to thank him, then stops at the gleam of mad scientist in his eyes.

“Big doings, kid. We’ve just got to get this down!”

And so she is whisked downstairs to the lab.

They work for a solid hour, and it’s good work. Then he starts flipping through his papers, cursing under his breath, and tipping back the drinks.

“How did I know I would find you here?” A cool British accent inquires, echoing slightly in the cavernous place.

“I know... If I could just, I know I could...” Howard mutters.

“Howard.” Darcy says, turning to face Peggy Carter. She’s immaculate. Not a hair out of place, her red lipstick perfect, and her white sheath dress fitting like a glove.

“What?” Howard looks up, ready for an insight. “Peg! You’re early!”

“No,” Peggy crooks a brow, “I’m not.”

Howard looks between them. “I promised myself I’d have alcohol on hand for you for this. And I do.”

“I’m quite alright, Howard.”

“I could use a drink.” Darcy says at the same time.

Howard pours three fingers of whiskey into a beaker and hands it to Darcy. “Darcy, this is Peggy Carter. Pal, this is Darcy Rogers.”

“I think we can take it from here, Howard. Shouldn’t you check on your date?”

“Melinda!” Howard grins rakishly. He stops at the door to look between the two women. “Can I just say-“

“No!” Peggy and Darcy say at the same time.

“You trust him enough to drink out of that?” Peggy nods towards the beaker.

“Howard is meticulous.” Darcy replies, taking a sip of her whiskey. She walks around the table, hiding that she takes a good sized gulp. She turns to face Peggy, who stands cool, calm and collected.

She takes another drink, not caring what it looks like, and the center of her chest warms. She needs it. “I’m sorry. I’m not equipped for this.”

“I don’t think anyone is. Appearing and disappearing against your will.” Peggy says, and Darcy thinks a little bit of her armor comes down.

It’s just that Peggy is, hell, she’s Peggy Carter. The original director of SHIELD. One of the feminist icons of the twenty-first century.

Right now, she’s on break from running the world’s premiere spy network and peace keeping agency. She’s thirty-six years old and is so self-assured she wears it like a second skin.

Darcy is twenty-four by her best count, still a credit short of her college degree, still broken to pieces over the loss of Steve, and stumbling through time. Peggy stands strong, and Darcy’s walking on tilted floors in rooms with spinning walls.

At first, she’d almost convinced herself that it all made perfect sense. Darcy had Steve and dark movie theaters and hand drawn irises. Peggy got Captain America, leading the commandos across Europe, saving the day. Except it was Steve’s smile in those reels, and her Steve had saved the day too, damn it.

With a nod, Darcy starts talking. “When I first disappeared, it was the last time Steve would see me. I was as good as dead to him.”

Peggy opens her mouth, but Darcy shakes her head firmly. She needs to get this out, or she’ll lose her courage.

“It- I can’t -“ Darcy swallows and wipes under her eyes, angry that she’s crying in front of Peggy Carter. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that he had someone who c-cared about him through everything. The serum, Bucky, and the- the end.”

Darcy holds up her hand. “Howard told me you cared for him before the serum. That you were there that day and yelled for them to stop. You saw him. Like I did.”

“Steve Rogers was the best man that I ever met.” Peggy says. “He broke my heart when he put that plane down. But I’m married now. I have two children. And I can look back and say with certainty that Steve was my dear, dear friend who had so much potential to become more.”

“I don’t like talking about the plane.” Darcy confesses, tossing back the rest of her drink. “But I swore that when I met you, I would thank you. Or if you won’t take it, thank the universe. That there was a voice at the other end of the radio when he was alone, when he didn’t have Bucky. And you talked to him about dancing and nice things until the end.”

“Mrs. Rogers, y-“

“Darcy.”

“Darcy.” Peggy opens her clutch and pulls out a kerchief, dabbing under her eyes. “You are everything I have thought you should be, since Howard told me of your existence. Now, I believe I will have a drink. Which one of these is clean, do you know?”


	18. Chapter 18

Howard convinces Darcy to come to London with him. 

They stay at Stark House and commute together to Stark Industries London. She’s known as Darcy Lewis, his assistant. He fires his lab manager their first day when he treats Darcy like a secretary.

Asking her for coffee and patting her ass was bad enough, but he’d tacked on calling her gorgeous. 

Howard has him escorted out and Darcy retreats to Howard’s office, sitting there with the lights off focusing as hard as she can on Steve’s voice.

What he’d sounded like calling her gorgeous. He’d called her doll and sweetheart, but gorgeous had been special. His voice had been the one he used only with her. 

Howard comes up with lunch later, waking Darcy from the light doze she’d fallen into. She wipes at the spot of drool on his desk without embarrassment. They’d scienced together too long for that.

“Hey, kid. I’m starting to recognize your Steve face. Figured you’d want to be alone. But I ordered lunch.”

“You ordered lunch?” Darcy asks him, wincing when he turns on the lights.

“Fine. Theodora ordered lunch. But I told her to.” 

The other lab workers don’t necessarily respect her after that, but they certainly respect her relationship with Howard. She’s well aware that many of them have assumptions about what that relationship entails. 

She comforts herself that she can often put a stop to any misogynistic comments or behavior with a single raised eyebrow. Maybe the lessons are sinking in and will bleed into other areas of their lives.

Slowly, she gains a modicum of acceptance. Most of the workers come to recognize her competence in the lab, even if some of them continue to hold her lady parts against her.

Two months in she flies back across the Atlantic to spend a few weeks with John, Rebecca and JJ. One of the weeks John leaves for the fashion show, and the ladies decamp with JJ for the mansion. 

During JJ’s nap times, Rebecca and Darcy convince Howard’s pilot Bruno to teach them to pilot his plane. Rebecca enjoys it so much that Darcy extends her trip. Bruno is gruff and acts annoyed with them, but Darcy sees his pride when Rebecca manages take off, a flight, and landing all on her own. 

John is there to watch the landing that day. He walks across the runway with a smile on his face. “Rebecca Barnes Prescott, I always knew you’d keep me on my toes.”

“I guess now would be a good time to tell you I crossed the pipes on my own.” Rebecca says as he scoops her up.

His face is blank for half a second, then a laugh bursts out of him. “Of course you did.”

Peggy flies back to London with Darcy, intent on visiting Howard. Darcy can tell something else is going on. Peggy is accompanied by two SHIELD agents who refer to Darcy as Miss Lewis and treat her with so much respect Darcy wonders what Peggy had told them about her. Maybe that she could kill them with her thighs like the Black Widow? Darcy’s going to imagine that’s it.

Howard is in full party mode when he picks them up from the airport. He’s purchased tickets to the opera and he’s bought out a theater for a showing of Sayonara, they’re invited for dinner at the prime minister’s, and to a yacht party after that.

He hardly lets Peggy get a word in edgewise before they drop Darcy off at the door to her room. She washes her face and changes, unpacking her bags as she goes. 

When she goes down for dinner Peggy is arguing with Howard over encouraging Darcy to live in the past by giving her Steve’s room. Howard is pacing angrily and at that he throws his glass against the wall and storms from the room.

Darcy slips into the kitchen to peek at the food and decides to just take a plate up to her room. 

She comes back down for the cocktail party and finds Howard and Peggy talking quietly just outside the lively living room. 

When Howard looks at her, she can see how bleary his eyes are, and isn’t surprised when he slurs. “Kid, I won’t judge you if you take your pick of any of those fellas in there.”

Darcy looks over the party. There’s a group laughing uproariously in one corner, a table playing cards, and a man playing the piano. 

“Darcy, I’m sorry-“ Peggy starts.

“I counted. It’s been nine months and thirteen days since I last saw Steve. We were in our apartment, and it was the night before he had to report for training. So I like sleeping in the room that he did.” Darcy reaches out and takes Howard’s drink. She needs it, and he certainly doesn’t. “I’m not living in the past. I’m living in the future.”

“Hell, kid.” Howard says, his anger running out.

“I know it’s been longer for you. Sometimes Rebecca and John mention things, like they’re talking about something long ago that memory has faded. Who was that kid that always wanted the bottle caps, they’ll ask. It was Tommy Granery, Steve and I kept ours in a coffee can for him under the sink.” Darcy takes in the glittering chandelier, the trays of food. “I woke up in ’53 with ration cards in my purse.”

“I’m not living in the past. I’m here. I’m wearing the right clothes. I know how much money the subway costs. I watch television and make telephone calls and instead of burping JJ I give him piggy back rides.” Darcy takes a deep breath. “I appreciate that you’re worrying, but I’m telling you to leave it. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Howard! There you are, you old dog!” One of the men cries, a cigar wagging in the corner of his mouth. “Ladies! What’ll it be?”

Darcy lifts her chin and steps into the room. After several drinks, Peggy begins to shadow her. Darcy heads out onto the balcony, and they stand together at the railing. Darcy helps Peggy dab at a glob of cocktail sauce a someone had accidentally flung onto her, and shifts to block the stained part of the dress when a photographer comes by. SHIELD will either make the picture disappear, or Howard will.

When they pass back through the living room the crowd has thinned out. Three women remain with Howard, one perched on his lap.

EJ escorts Darcy and Peggy up to their rooms.

Darcy and Peggy have breakfast together, then Peggy departs for her London office. Howard emerges from his room with a red-haired woman and walks her to the breakfast table, inviting her to have as much as she’d like, tacking on that the driver will take her wherever she wants to go, and then offers his arm to Darcy.


	19. Chapter 19

Darcy and Howard return to the lab. They’re analyzing an explosive device that was built around a SHIELD weapon designed by Howard. Peggy is angry that her tech was stolen, and Howard’s angry that she let it happen.

Darcy has worked with Howard enough to be of help, and that’s how she ends up flying into the Soviet Union with Howard and Peggy a month later.

As Peggy retrieves her team, her voice echoes down the tunnel to Darcy after a man urges her to hurry up so they can meet Howard’s disappearing friend.

“As you all know, I have never deigned to comment on my relationship with Steve. We were friends first and to the last, simply because our hearts were never in the right place.” Peggy says as she enters the hidden base. “In 1953, I learned why that was for Steve. Gentlemen, meet Howard’s disappearing friend, Darcy Rogers.”

Darcy recognizes the Howling Commandos from all of Howard’s movie reels and pictures. They stare back at her silence.

“Merde.” Jacques Dernier mutters.

“Yes, quite.” Peggy says.

“It’s good to meet you all.” Darcy manages, planning to elbow the shit out of Howard later for not giving her a heads up here. “I’ve seen Howard’s film reels of you with Steve, and I could see how much he thought of you.”

“You’re real.” Gabe Jones says. “Steve drew you. Must have been a thousand times.”

Darcy’s heart wrenches. She’d seen his art journals. Mixed in with the streets of Paris, cold dark forests, and lonely trenches are her eyes, the profile of her face, her stepping through a door, eyes happy, as she passes what she recognizes to be the marble entrance to the bank. Her and Rebecca leaning out of their window.

Dum-Dum Dugan just keeps looking between Peggy and Darcy.

“She disappeared right in front of Steve in ’42 and didn’t come back until ’53.” Howard says impatiently. “But it would be swell if we could talk about this later? When we’re not trespassing on a USSR military base?”

Three hours later Darcy is cold, her hands are covered in blood, and she’s berating Peggy Carter.

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had! I can’t believe they let you run an international espionage organization!”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll draw them off.” Peggy shoves a heavy duffel bag into Darcy’s arms.

Dum-Dum hauls Howard up into the back cockpit, but he’s nodding along with her. Darcy winces at the sight of the blood covering the front of Howard’s shirt.

“That’s not the part I’m worried about!”

“Yeah, who cares about the enemy soldiers.” Dum-Dum says as he drops back onto the air strip. Darcy ignores him, even if he is the only making any sense.

“I’ve flown by myself exactly twice, and that was with Bruno ready to take over if anything went wrong! And it wasn’t a Russian fighter plane!”

“Soviet.” Falsworth corrects her, though he does look nervous about the plan. His right arm is held to his chest in a make-shift sling, or he’d be the one making the flight. “And it’s a surveillance plane. Outfitted with weaponry.”

Darcy looks down at the bag, which holds parts to detonate a time sensitive bomb and a few explosives, and then at Howard slumped over in the plane. “Are you sure there isn’t another, actually sane way to do this?”

“This is the only way.” Peggy tells her, holding her gaze.

“Well, I guess I’m flying Soviet airways. You do remember us Rogers don’t have a great track record with planes, right?” Darcy squeezes the duffel bag, then decides not to crowd the bomb parts. “Damn it. This is the last fucking time I come on an ‘easy’ mission with you, Carter!”

Darcy walks over to the plane and Dum-Dum helps her up onto the wing. “In fact, you’re all on probation except for Dum-Dum.”

Then she’s pulling the canopy down and locking it in place. It’s freezing in the cockpit and she has to sit on the edge of her seat to reach everything. She crams the duffel bag behind her, because why the fuck not use it as a fucked up booster seat? “Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck.”

“You’re such a lady, Mrs. Rogers.” Howard groans.

“You’re awake?” Darcy exclaims as the instruments all spin and the motor starts up. The plane starts to roll forward over the bumpy, snow covered runway. “How in the hell are you so calm?!”

“I’ve got three options, kid. I can die here, I can die when you crash, or I can survive the crash and take all the glory for our survival after you drag me back to civilization.”

“It’ll serve you right if I do crash, you fuckwit. Your wits are fucked. Oh, hell. Oh, banana balls.” Darcy mutters as they begin to pick up speed. “Okay, okay. Heimdall, buddy, please tell me you’re watching. Get Thor to help a lightning sister out with this wind, huh?”

They tip sideways on take-off, but Darcy manages to straighten them out.

She has a hard time letting go of the throttle when they reach altitude, but she has to track them on the map. She supposed to fly _through_ the motherfucking mountains in a snow storm, hope that no one spreads the word that someone has hijacked a plane, and all of the little Soviet soldiers do their job and light up the peaks to guide her.

She has a compass and a map. Like she’s Indiana Jones or some shit. She also has three all important gauges to watch.

Why the hell did she watch so many of those _Without A Trace_ documentaries? It had all been well and fine on her couch with her blanket and her Netflix, but now she’s flying out of Soviet Russia in a damn snowstorm and she’s got phrases like ‘controlled flight into the ground’ and ‘but in actuality they were flying forty miles south, directly into the gaping mouth of the Andes mountains’ floating around in her head in a forbidding voice. And that awful radio mystery show about the missing crew from the Chilean crash.

After about an hour she sees the first pinprick of light through the hazy snow. After that the others become clear, and she has to trust that they are lighting her safe way between the mountain peaks.

She clears the mountains and flies for another hour, southwest. Then she starts receiving radio instructions, which means that Peggy and the Commandos had held up their end of the deal and radioed in. Or they were already there, having made the climb to the tunnel, which is a hell of a shortcut.

She’s instructed to lower her altitude and decrease engine power, and to watch for her escort. She can’t respond without giving herself away to the Soviets who control her broadcast.

Her escorts appear behind her and Darcy continues to follow their instructions. Eventually one drops down from above to lead her to a landing strip.

“Howard?” Darcy calls back. “You still with me?”

He doesn’t answer, hasn’t for the past half hour.

“Rescue one, you are clear for landing. We have a med team on standby. I repeat, you are clear for landing. The strip is yours.”

Her escorts pull away and Darcy sees the strip below, yellow lights obscured by the snow. The wind rocks her from side to side.

Her arms shake with the effort of pushing throttle in. Her stomach turns as the plane noses down. Too steep, too steep, let it up a bit. The decline steadies a little and her eyes flick between the wavering lights and the instruments.

The landing gear hitting the strip is so jarring that Darcy thinks she’s crashed. She screams, and if she’d been in a horror film someone would be handing her an Oscar. But the plane bounces, which she thinks is headed for a roll, and then the landing gear touches down again.

Then she slides sideways and screams until the plane finally comes to a stop. Then she screams again, just for good measure. Her knuckles are white on the throttle and she breaths in giant gasps.

“Howard? We made it.” Darcy says, and her voice is shaking. “Option four, bitch. Howard? Come on.”

“What’d you jus’ callme?” He slurs.

She unlocks the canopy top and pushes it up. Ice rains down, then the snow invades the cockpit. Darcy crawls to her knees in the seat and turns to check on Howard.

“We’ve got him. Climb down!” Dum-Dum yells, already up on the back part of the wing and unhooking Howard.

Darcy swings her leg over the edge of the cockpit and drops onto the wing, then jumps down to the landing strip, dragging the duffle bag with her.

There’s a second where it can go either way for her. Where she can let the terror overcome her and feel cut open wishing for home, toast in the mornings, Steve saving her from rain puddles.

Or she can embrace it. And she’s the Darcy who faced down the Destroyer and the Dark Elves and tased a god. She’s the Darcy who traveled back in time and lived damn it. She’s Darcy Rogers, and she just flew a Soviet plane out of enemy territory in a blizzard with a bomb in her lap.

Aw yeah.

She’s the Rogers that’s here, and she’d helped Steve’s friends.

Peggy stops in front of her, hands on her hips. “Sloppy landing.”

Darcy wraps an arm around Peggy in a one armed hug and puts her mouth next to Peggy’s ear. “Shove it up your ass, Carter.”

Peggy throws her head back and laughs.

Darcy turns back to see Howard trying to direct the medical team as they carry his stretcher off the tarmac.

Peggy and Howard manage to keep her name out of it completely. She’s the dynamo lady pilot that shocked the airport crew when she climbed out of the cockpit. Newspapers dramatize it for weeks, and by the end of it the plane had been on fire and out of fuel, and Darcy had removed two bullets from Howard’s body in-flight.

She flies home to New York with Dum-Dum and Morita since the press is swarming Howard and the papers had a least run the description ‘black haired beauty’.

Morita teases that something will probably happen to the pilot and she’ll have to fly the plane, and he fully expects her to cook Christmas dinner at the same time.

“Buddy, I make toast, deli sandwiches, and pies. Steve handled the rest, so I didn’t kill us.”

In New York they stop at a lunch counter to eat, and then spend some time at a soda fountain waiting for Howard’s driver. They part ways on the sidewalk, Morita talking about being home for Christmas.

Darcy has the driver take her to the brownstone. Rebecca yanks her inside and then starts smacking her. “Dynamo lady pilot? Buxom all-American beauty?! Do you have a death wish? What were you thinking?”

“Becks, come on. It was the opposite. I wanted to live!” Darcy tries to inject some humor into her voice, but Rebecca isn’t having it. “Seriously. It was the only choice.”

“Besides not going into the USSR in the first place?” Rebecca demands.

But Darcy thinks she detects a little humor there. “You’re just jealous I got to fly a soviet fighter plane.”

“Ha, Rogers. I can’t believe you.” Rebecca’s lips twitch. “Well, how was it?”


	20. Chapter 20

Darcy spends two full weeks with John, Rebecca and JJ. Until Howard comes himself to pry her away and back to his labs.

EJ is always on his case about drinking while he’s healing, and Howard is always trying to sneak some. Plus he ‘pulled something’ entertaining a lady of questionable intelligence called Fawn. Darcy judges him for weeks on that.

When she goes back to London with him in the Spring, Rebecca makes her promise not to hijack anymore planes. Darcy holds up her end of the deal, but she does get caught up in a small explosion during a weapons testing gone wrong.

“I told you, Howard!” She grumbles, one ear ringing. She tastes blood in her mouth and discovers she’d bitten her tongue. Her mauve pantyhose are shredded.

A shrill alarm is shrieking.

“Where’s the fire?” Howard yells.

Darcy looks around, but doesn’t see one. She climbs free from the wreckage of her desk and checks all of her limbs. Deciding she’s in acceptable shape, she picks her way through the jumble of rubble to Howard.

He’s on his back and staring up and the ceiling in a dazed manner. His face is black with soot, and part of his right eyebrow is singed off. Darcy grunts as she lifts a filing cabinet off him.

A corner of another table is covering his feet and she tosses it aside, then sighs. “Damn it, Howard. You blew off your damn toe.”

She calls him the nine toed wonder after that. He’s not impressed. After any type of lab accident, big and small, she asks after his toe until he just tacks that onto his status reports to beat her to it.

“Next time we’ll crank it up to five, and my toe is fine.”

The other lab workers ignore it. EJ always smirks discreetly into his collar.

Her ear is still ringing when she arrives stateside in the early summer for JJ’s fifth birthday party.

Rebecca and Darcy help the cook with the cake, much to the woman’s annoyance. Bunting and streamers are draped throughout the backyard, and tables are set up with tablecloths.

Gabe Jones shows up early, saying he thought he’d keep Darcy company. John and Rebecca are happy to meet him, and Gabe says he can see the family resemblance between Rebecca and Bucky.

The adults at the party have a mixed reaction to Gabe, and Darcy hears several people muttering about the colored man.

“Darcy Rogers!” Ruth proclaims loudly. “I haven’t seen you in an age! Or is it still Rogers?”

Ruth looks slyly to Gabe sitting next to Darcy on the garden wall. It’s obvious she’s hoping for something salacious.

“It’s still Rogers.” Darcy replies, teeth on edge. “You must not recognize Gabe Jones, one of Steve’s Commandos.”

“He was my Uncle Bucky’s friend, right Aunt Darcy?” JJ collides with Darcy’s legs. He has a metal figure airplane clutched in one hand and a party hat in the other. “My hat came off.”

Darcy takes the proffered hat and sets it back on his head, tying the strings in a bow under his chin.

“Gabe, make me fly.” JJ demands, holding his arms up. After that most of the men in the party are recruited to be the supports for an air battle.

Ruth seems thrown by the interaction, either Darcy’s aggressive response, or maybe her nephew’s obvious adoration of Gabe. Or maybe it’s the arrival of Gladys, who doesn’t suffer any bullshit these days.

“Darcy, you look wonderful.” Gladys observes. Her lips twitch. “You must share your skin regimen.”

“Raw liver under the eyes once a week.” Darcy responds promptly.

“Truly?” Ruth frowns, but then nods. “I suppose it isn’t stranger than some of those masks.”

There’s a yell and then a crying voice calling for a mother, and Ruth huffs. “I told Robert to be careful with her. An airplane! What does a little girl need to pretend to be an airplane for anyway?”

“She’ll be putting liver on her face tomorrow, I guarantee it.” Gladys says, taking a draw off her cigarette.

Gabe returns to her side nearly an hour later, rubbing at his left arm. “They should have recruits come to a kid’s birthday party during boot camp.”

Darcy returns to the mansion with Falsworth who was still recovering from his injury. He’d had corrective surgery and was nearing the end of his recovery period and restless with it. He’s a damn slave driver, and Darcy clocks more time in the air than she does on the ground excluding sleep time.

In July Darcy joins Falsworth and Howard in piloting SHIELD planes running cargo across the Atlantic. The cargo is top secret, and Peggy hadn’t wanted to bring in anyone else. The group of people Peggy trusts implicitly is small, and comes to be referred to as the Rogers Circle by the high level people who know of it. They think it has to do with Steve, when in reality it’s because the people inside of it are the ones who address Darcy by her real name.

The flights are supposed to be low risk, and they fly in formation together. Her second to last flight has her engaging in evasive maneuvers after taking fire from a boat below.

She sticks as Falsworth’s shadow, and he keeps both of them safe.

Falsworth radios ahead to Peggy and she sends reinforcements.

After that he has her back in the airspace above Stark Mansion again. At first she just has to stay in his shadow, and he has Bruno on the ground watching for the slight deviances on her part. Bruno is ruthless in his reports, and Darcy hates them both.

The commandos come to watch, and Morita calls her an ace. Gabe and Jacques congratulate her. Falsworth looks over Bruno’s notes and gives her a considering look and says she’s not bad.

Darcy is soaked with sweat, her arm muscles ache from fighting the plane into dives, barrel rolls, and one goddamn loop de loop. She punches him right in the damn face, and he grins at her through his bloody nose.

Dum-Dum is quiet while EJ goes for ice for her hand.

“What?” Darcy asks him. “Don’t think I won’t punch you too. Jacques, you’ll knock him down so I can reach, right?”

“Just can’t help but wonder what Cap would think of this.” Dum-Dum says. “And Peggy set me straight on her, but she’s trained for this.”

“What do think flying with Falsworth has been? Paling around? If so, James, you’re fired as my friend and I never want to hang out again.”

“But the rest of us are still on probation, right?” Morita asks, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“I can tell you what Steve would think of this.” Darcy says. “Because when he changed up his body, he changed up from neighborhood bullies to Nazis and Hydra, but he was the same man. Steve would have been beside himself with worry the first time I flew. He would have hated it. And then after that he would have been proud of me, he would have believed in me and trusted me. And I never would have made the jump from the wing to the ground, because he would have been waiting to catch me.”

Her last flight goes off without a hitch, other than the September fog that rolled in over DC.

Morita is waiting under the wing and she shakes her head at him before jumping into his arms. “You’re off probation. Don’t tell the others.”

He tells them as soon as they get inside.

Dum-Dum is walking her through the SHIELD facility underground when she feels the prick and tingle.

“Well, damn.”

Dum-Dum looks down at her, his bowler hat tipped jauntily to the side. His arm darts towards her, but his fingers close over nothing.


	21. Chapter 21

It’s cold. That’s the first thing she notices, then her vision comes into focus and she’s staring at a giant industrial dumpster.

“Why is it always alleys?” She asks, bracing one hand against the brick wall to steady herself as her heart races. “Get it together, Rogers.”

She’s wearing her flight suit. Because she flies planes and can keep up with James Montgomery Falsworth, damn it.

Turning towards the back of the alley she unzips the suit and reaches under her t-shirt to the pouch Howard had commissioned for her. It’s made from butter soft leather, stained bright red. To match her lipstick he’d said.

It contains a hundred dollar bill, the wedding rings she can’t wear in-air, and two keys. One to the Prescott house, and one to Stark Mansion. Darcy puts on her rings, having to push since her fingers are still swollen from being in-air, and zips the hundred dollar bill into one of her flight suit pockets.

The she lifts her head, straightens her shoulders, and marches out of the alley. The street is full of traffic, but hardly anyone is walking. Windows are broken out of store fronts, and most look empty.

The neighborhood is a shadow of its former self. With some shock, she sees the bank. It’s closed and a woman sleeps on a blanket on the front steps.

There’s a newspaper stand on the corner and Darcy hurries down the street. President Lyndon B. Johnson is on the front page. Her eyes find the date. **Wednesday November 23rd, 1965**.

Darcy manages to flag down a cab, but the man only rolls down the window instead of coming around to open the door. He eyes her clothes distrustfully.

She gives him the address of the Prescott house and holds out her money.

“You crazy, lady? I can’t make change for that.” He cranks the window back up and pulls away from the curb.

So she walks, and her outfit gets strange looks from everyone she passes.

She remembers another long trek and figures at least this time she’s in comfortable shoes. Unlike before, the neighborhood doesn’t seem to improve as she gets closer to the brownstone.

The cars parked on the street are in disrepair and some of the houses have extra mail boxes added to the fronts, signifying they’d been split into apartments.

When Darcy’s knock is answered by an unfamiliar woman, her heart sinks.

“The Prescotts? They ain’t lived here for goin’ on four years.”

“Do you have a forwarding address?” Darcy asks hopefully.

“Why would I have a forwardin’ address?” The woman asks, shaking her head.

“Could you tell me where the closest bank is?”

Darcy walks to the bank and breaks the hundred. She buys a newspaper and finds a hotel room for $36.99 a night. According to the paper, Howard is in Paris at some kind of summit. The walls are thin and she can hear the people on both sides of her.

She doesn’t have enough money to buy other clothes and eat, not with having to pay for the room for two nights.

So when she sets off for Broad and Halls Ferry she’s back in her flight suit. She turns the corner and there are Howard and EJ, both leaning against the car. Howard’s reading a newspaper, but EJ bumps him.

Howard lets the paper flip down and sees her. He rolls up the paper and hands it off to EJ before holding his arms open. Darcy walks straight into them.

They drive directly to the upstate mansion, Howard making calls from a rotary phone in the backseat. He calls Peggy first, then a military base and asks for Sergeant Dugan. He makes a third call, explaining that something has come up and he’ll have to put off coming back to Paris for another week.

“Mrs. Stark.” EJ explains.

“Mrs. Stark!” Darcy punches Howard in the arm and he makes a show of rubbing it. “Tell me all about her. Right now!”

“One more call. Why don’t you make this one.” Howard says, handing her a small black notebook. It’s open to the P’s.

“I went to the brownstone.” Darcy says, already reaching for the phone.

“They moved uptown a few years back. The crime rates were too high. John opened a new shop, but he keeps the old one open. Does free work for anyone in the neighborhood interviewing for a job.” Howard shakes his head, like it’s just too quaint.

“Prescott residence.”

“Yes, can I speak with Mrs. Prescott?”

“Who is calling?”

Howard points at himself, a folder already flipped open in his lap.

“Howard Stark.” Darcy replies smoothly.

“Of course, just one moment.”

Then Rebecca’s voice. “Howard?”

“Hey, Becks.”

“Darcy! You’re back! John!” Rebecca yells. “John!”

“Dinner next Friday. It’ll be a thing.” Howard says distractedly.

“Where are you?” Rebecca demands.

“In Howard’s car on our way upstate.” Darcy feels herself settling. “He’s invited you to dinner next Friday. He said it’ll be a thing so-“

“Dress fancy.” Rebecca finishes. “And we’ll have to bring you some things. John, there you are! Darcy’s back, here!”

“Darce?” John’s voice comes over the line.

“It’s me.”

There’s only a grumble and then Rebecca’s back on the line. “You can talk to him later! Oh, Darcy. I’ve missed you!”

Darcy settles back into the corner of the bench seat. “Tell me everything I’ve missed. Oh, Thor. How old is JJ now? Twelve?”

“Twelve.” Rebecca confirms, and then just keeps talking.

They’re an hour out when a plane roars overhead. Howard glances up. “That’ll be Peg.”

Peggy meets them on the mansion steps. She takes one look at Darcy in her flight suit and curses. “That puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Darcy agrees, but for her it’s the fine lines around Peggy’s mouth and creasing at the corners of her eyes. Darcy steals a quick glance at Howard and this time she sees the sliver peppering his temples.

The rest of the Rogers Circle arrives throughout the week. The Commandos, Peggy’s husband Charles Montgomery, the Prescotts, and Fred Phillips.

It’s Darcy’s first time meeting Phillips face-to-face, but she’d talked to him over the radio on some of her flights. He’s the son of Colonel Phillips, and is one of Peggy’s most trusted agents at SHIELD.

Darcy isn’t the only one amused by his slightly shell shocked manner upon meeting her.

Despite Howard’s frequent traveling, Darcy is rarely alone at the mansion. Falsworth comes to keep her sharp in the air, but really he has to teach her about new gauges and innovations. Gabe brings his son for her to meet. Rebecca and John visit for a weekend, and bring her back to see their new house.

She spends Christmas with them, and then New Years as well because Howard has to be with Maria. JJ accepts her so easily that she thinks some part of him must remember her.

Every two weeks Howard and Peggy return to discuss reaching some kind of agreement about Stark weapons.

It’s easy to see that the issue has strained their friendship. Darcy acts as a go between for the two, and ends many nights with a headache. Peggy feels strongly that Howard needs supervision and oversight. Howard doesn’t trust anyone with his tech, and says that even Peggy has let it get into the wrong hands.

The worst night by far is the night that Peggy loses her temper and reminds Howard of the time he’d lied to her and used her to retrieve his vial of Steve’s blood.

Howard reminds her of Finow, of his stolen Midnight Oil, and Darcy braces herself against the desk strewn with papers of their proposed agreements.

Peggy is in the middle of promising that she’d never allow that to happen again when she sees Darcy’s face. “Oh. Oh, darling. I poured it into the East River.”

“I think,” Darcy says slowly, “that we all need a break from this.”

“Kid.” Howard says, and she’s surprised to see shame in his eyes.

“Oh, Howard.” Peggy sighs.

Darcy leaves the vault and has dinner in her room. Sometimes she forgets how much she misses. Of course it’s obvious when she has to be reintroduced to JJ and win him over again, or when television is suddenly color. But she can’t help but treat her friends as if they are the exact same people they’d been, but time changes people.

Howard brings her a drink the next night. “I never wanted you to know about that.”

Darcy shrugs her shoulders. “It was a long time ago, right?”

“Forty-seven? Forty-six?” Howard swallows. “I just couldn’t give up on him. When they used the midnight oil on me, I was going to find him. Peg had to talk me down, and I always hated that. That she had to get on the radio with me that way. It wasn’t right.”

“She loves you.”

“I blame Steve, you know? He left us, and now here I am with a pair of dames for best friends.” Howard laughs weakly. “And I blame the pair of you for Maria. If I hadn’t have known you two, I would have run in the other direction when I met her like any other smart man would have.”

“You’re welcome then.” Darcy tells him, clinking her glass against his. Because it’s obvious that Howard is in love with his wife. Head over heels. It makes her heart ache to hear the softer, warmer tone he uses on the phone with Maria.

“I don’t know what to do about this agreement with Peg. With SHIELD.”

“Don’t sign it.” Darcy says quietly.

Howard looks at her in surprise, then nods once.

The next day Peggy joins Darcy in her daily morning-ish walk around the pond. They crunch along together in silence.

“Peg-“ Darcy starts.

“If you thank me I swear I’ll punch you. I did what I did for Steve and for Howard.” Peggy says.

Darcy nods.

“Besides, Howard tells me you’ve told him not to sign any agreements with me.” Peggy picks up the pace and shoots Darcy an angry look. “And that he’ll not change his mind until you do.”

“Thanks, Howard.” Darcy mutters.

“I thought you were on my side on this.” Peggy says. “You know how caught up he gets. I love him, but he is the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. He’s dangerous.”

Darcy stops and Peggy stops with her. “Peg, I’ll have him sign an agreement with you the day you take me around SHIELD headquarters and introduce me to everyone as Darcy Rogers.”

Peggy opens her mouth, then she closes it.

“If you don’t trust them with me, how can you trust them with Howard’s work? You said yourself, it’s dangerous.”

Darcy sighs when she feels the pull, now familiar. It’s only been three months this time. Last time, she’d gotten a year. Peggy’s eyes widen in alarm. “Don’t worry. Howard knows what to do.”


	22. Chapter 22

Carly Simon’s _You’re so Vain_ plays out of an open window and Darcy does quick math. Her friends are now in their fifties. JJ is twenty. That realization has her fighting tears.

Then she pulls her coat off and tugs up her sleeves. She’d left Peggy and January behind for a warm May day. She has her leather pouch, now filled with two hundred dollars in twenties and fives. She still has a key to the mansion, and to the Prescott’s new house.

But Stark Industries is closer, and she decides to try her luck there before taking an expensive cab ride.

In the new building there is a reception desk. Darcy approaches it confidently and tries to project an aura of ‘ain’t nobodies mistress’, not really wanting to sit through another board room talk.

“Hello,” Darcy says, giving her best don’t you even think about making me put up with your shit look to one of the women behind the desk, “I need to see Howard Stark.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The woman asks, glancing to one of the other women at the desk.

“No. My name is Darcy Lewis, he’ll see me.” Darcy narrows her eyes, daring the woman to deny her.

But the woman’s eyes go wide, and the other woman steps over immediately. “Darcy Lewis?”

Darcy is escorted to the elevator, and then up eighty floors. She’s offered drinks and sandwiches. Then she’s led into Howard’s empty office, where she’s left with a tray of food, a carafe of water, and a wave towards the wet bar.

She eats a sandwich and wishes someone had given her an idea as to what she’s doing here.

Then the secretary's voice comes from a box on the desk. “I’m putting Mr. Stark through to you, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy picks up the phone when it rings. “Howard?”

“Hey kid! Damn it's good to hear your voice!”

“Where are you?”

“London. Got a project with Peg, and we need you on it.” Howard replies instantly. “I’m sending you a car, and I’ll send word to Rebecca and John. They’ll get you set up, and then you’ll fly out in a few days. You will come out, won’t you?”

Darcy hears Peggy’s voice in the background.

“Peg says Gabe and Falsworth want to come get you.”

“Ask Peggy what kind of mission this is.” Darcy orders.

Howard is laughing when he comes back on the line. “She says not moderate or difficult but certainly not easy.”

“Give me a week with Rebecca and John, and you’ve got a deal.”

It’s a punch to the gut when Rebecca opens the door. Her friend’s hair is streaked with gray, and her face has new lines. But her eyes are still the same brightly lit brown, and strong arms pull her into a tight hug.

JJ is in Paris on a buying trip, his first solo attempt. Rebecca says it’s only because John was still getting over a nasty cold, and that the two butt heads constantly at work. Just like John had with Erwin.

John is still recovering, but grumpy about it. He hacks and coughs but refuses to stay in bed. Instead he takes Darcy’s measurements, giving her a smile when he says she hasn’t changed a bit.

All week she gets deliveries from the shop, making her a new wardrobe. At the weekend, JJ returns. Darcy and Rebecca are out to lunch, and when they get back JJ and John are arguing over the receipts.

JJ looks up with a smile for Rebecca. “Mom, come look at these and tell Dad I’m not crazy.”

His eyes flick to Darcy and his golden brows knit. “Aunt Darcy?”

“We told him everything.” Rebecca explains. “Howard agreed.”

Darcy fights tears when JJ gives her a hug. They stay up late going over the receipts from his trip, and JJ has Darcy look through his sketches. He grins when she says she’d like one of the capelets.

Gabe and Falsworth arrive the next day. They shake John and JJ’s hands, and hug Rebecca. Gabe’s hair is more salt than pepper. Falsworth has one prominent gray streak.

As she’d suspected he would, Falsworth has her in the co-pilot’s seat. Gabe sticks close, telling her about his son’s work in a civil rights group and how he’s gone back to school to become a lawyer. Gabe is officially retired, but still comes in for Peggy and Howard.

Falsworth is all business. He has her take control of the plane and go through maneuvers, familiarizing herself with its response. He drills her on new regulations.

Darcy knows why when she spends the next six weeks flying Dum-Dum and his new team into and out of West Germany. When she returns to base, one of the commandos is always waiting under her wing. In Berlin, Dum-Dum or his right-hand man Coltrause catch her.

She has drinks with Howard and talks about his two year old son, Anthony. Howard states emphatically that Anthony is a genius, and Peggy rolls her eyes.

She and Howard end up in the papers. Howard is helping her out of a car. The newspaper only got a picture from the side. Howard holding one of her hands, his other hand on her side as she jumps a puddle. Her hair blocks her features. _Stark’s Other Lady! Back to his Old Ways! Stark’s Mistress Buys Up London!_

The fervor doesn’t die down for weeks.

Darcy speaks with Peggy by phone at least once a week, but it’s all business for the most part. Peggy had found a rat, and the information trail ended in Berlin.

They’re trapped for six weeks when they come under heavy fire, and Darcy finds herself holding a gun for the first time in her life. The infiltrators are put down before they reach the haven Dum-Dum’s team had fortified in an abandoned weapons facility.

Darcy goes to work attempting to create a taser. She suffers several small shocks during the process and Dum-Dum orders her to stop. When she turns to look at him he adds ‘Please’.

When she knocks herself out, she wakes up to Dum-Dum leaning over her.

“You’re an idiot, Rogers.”

“Whatever, help me up.” Darcy responds, holding out her hand. He avoids the burned skin and pulls her to her feet. She sniffs. “Oh, shitballs. My hair!”

Coltrouse laughs, but the rest of team just stares at her.

“Oh, man. It’s huge.” Darcy pats at her hair, relieved when it doesn’t crinkle. Then she catches sight of her creation. “My baby! It works!”

“That was it working?” Dum-Dum asks.

“Well, it needs a few adjustments. I got up too fast, and I need to switch out the charges since it can’t recharge itself, but yes. I’d like to see you do better.” Darcy waves a hand at her work table.

Dum-Dum grins and shakes his head. “Roberts, patch up Lewis here.”

The day they finally leave, Darcy ends up with giant floppy disk strapped to her stomach. Dum-Dum says it’s because she’s the only one Peggy would trust with it other than him, but she’s pretty sure it’s because it means he gets to push her into the middle of the group.

She still gets to use her new taser, and it saves Dum-Dum’s ass.

“Work well enough for you?” Darcy asks him, stepping over her newly unconscious friend.

Peggy and her team meet them at the gates, and then Howard is waiting back at the base. He refuses to listen to Peggy and takes Darcy with him. Darcy feels a little guilty, but she’s been eating MREs for weeks and Howard promises her Italian. In Italy.

“She’s not one of your soldiers.” Howard says. “Or one of your agents.”

“I’m bribable. I’m sorry.” Darcy adds as Howard drags her away.

Peggy gives her a look, but one corner of her mouth ticks up.

A few weeks later Peggy gets her own, using a new fighter jet to tempt Darcy back. Morita and Jacques are her detail, and Darcy ferries special teams. Morita runs the radio, feeding whatever story works to various air traffic controllers.

Darcy is the only pilot that doesn’t lose a bird that year. A planted team does try to take her hostage after she flies them out of a hot-zone, but Morita and Jacques take them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the night. Go to sleep, sleepy commenters. I'll be back posting tomorrow.


	23. Chapter 23

She goes back to Rebecca and John for Christmas. The big white house with windows and trees, tucked away behind a low brick wall. Rebecca’s garden is dormant, but Darcy can see the beautiful new gazebo John had commissioned for Rebecca’s birthday.

Now Stark Mansion and even Stark House in London are more familiar to Darcy, she’s visited them for decades. But this newer house has the same vases tucked away on side tables, the flower arrangements always peppered with Rebecca’s favorite variety of pale pink peonies and Darcy’s favorite freesia. In Rebecca and John’s room the scent of John’s cologne and Rebecca’s perfume lingers. In the laundry the crisp scent of the soap John prefers. It all combines, mingles, and this house smells the same as the others had.

A familiar and beloved scent that Darcy’s brain recognizes and welcomes as John and Rebecca and home.

Now there’s also the scent of pine needles from the large Christmas trees in the family room and the main hall. In Rebecca’s music room, where Darcy can pass hours listening to Rebecca singing and playing, is the shiny aluminium tree Rebecca loves, decorated by Darcy and Rebecca until it’s positively garish.

Darcy spends late mornings in bed with Rebecca after John goes to work, with the radio on. Darcy sings along to _Crocodile Rock_ and Rebecca asks if she remembers singing carols at church.

Rebecca’s eyes are foggy with memories and Darcy doesn’t bother to explain that yes, she does. It was going on three years ago. For Rebecca it’s been thirty-five.

It puts Rebecca in a nostalgic mood and she puts on her old records. John comes home and they spend the evening dancing the way Darcy had learned to in the Barnes’ living room.

Darcy ends up with her head on John’s shoulder, immersed in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with nicotine while Rebecca sits curled up in a blanket with a glass of egg nog in hand.

“We’re headed out.” JJ says from the doorway. His ‘friend’ Andrew stands next to him. JJ and Andrew are getting an apartment together in the new year. Rebecca says that John is okay with it, he just prefers to delude himself that it’s as friends. “Andy thought we should see if Darcy wanted to come?”

JJ’s lips are twitching at the thought. He’s let his facial hair grow and has a thin mustache. His orange suit had flared legs that Darcy could wear as a skirt. Rebecca doesn’t quite hide a giggle.

“Yes, Darcy. You’re young, would you-“ Rebecca offers grandly, a smirk more befitting her brother on her face.

“No thanks.” Darcy interrupts, then gives Andrew a smile. “I’m exhausted.”

She ends up curled up on the couch with Rebecca and John, watching ‘old’ Christmas movies. They pick at a truly terrible fruitcake Gladys had sent, and devour the cookies Gabe had dropped off. Rebecca holds her hand, twisting Darcy’s rings around absentmindedly.

When the snow and ice clear, they all take a weekend up at the mansion while Maria and Anthony visit Maria’s father, who doesn’t get along with Howard at all.

Howard and John sit on the patio and smoke cigars while Darcy and Rebecca take up Howard’s newest plane.

They’ve been up for a while when the radio crackles with Dernier’s voice. “Rogers, I know that’s not you flying up there.”

“Why, Jac, whatever could you mean?” Rebecca asks. “I know you’re not insulting my flying.”

“Rebecca?”

They can hear John and Howard laughing in the background.

“Yes, I think I’m offended.” Rebecca takes them into another barrel roll, just showing off now.

Darcy had made it eight months when she disappears in London. Dum-Dum is there again, along with Coltrouse who stares at her as if he’s seen a ghost. Dum-Dum just looks sad.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to massively re-work this chapter, and it hasn't been Beta'd since. Please tell me if you spot mistakes.

In 1977 it’s Friday when she appears. She’s relieved it’s only been four years. She’s waiting when EJ pulls up at Broad and Halls Ferry. She uses the new key Howard had given her, to an apartment he bought with cash off the books. 

It’s fully furnished, decorated with many of the gifts Darcy had received over the years. It also has amazing views of the city. 

Pictures hang on the walls, many that she’s never seen. There’s that night at Stark House in London, when she’d helped Peggy hide the cocktail sauce stain on her dress. A shot of Darcy holding baby JJ in front of the Christmas tree, and another of JJ and Darcy walking at Stark Mansion. 

It’s kind of amazing to see, after all of this time. A physical record. She sees herself standing with Falsworth in front of the plane she flew on her first planned mission. Leaning against Peggy’s desk at SHIELD with Peg and Howard. In John’s arms at the beach, John’s head thrown back in laughter, Darcy’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and a crab dangling by one claw from her toe. 

There’s a picture of her standing knee deep in the river with Rebecca, JJ on her hip. She laughs with Peggy at Morita’s wedding. She’s stopped short by a picture she’s never seen before. She’s only in the background, the subject of the photo had been Rebecca and John at the piano, singing carols, but in the background, Darcy has her head tipped over onto Steve’s shoulder.

There’s also a picture of the family posed at Rebecca and John’s wedding. Bucky stands with Steve and Darcy. 

When she manages to drag herself away from the photo wall, she finds decades of her clothes in the giant closet. Her favorite quilt is on the bed. 

When Darcy tries to thank Howard, he predictably puts her off. Instead he talks logistics, how he bought the entire building so she’d never have to worry about losing the apartment. And he insists that Rebecca had done most of the work, but Darcy knows most of the stuff came from his vault, and that when it came to the furniture and paintings, Rebecca wouldn’t have known which were her favorites.

Howard had been in Tokyo, but flies back to New York to meet her. They work together in the apartment, with Darcy returning to her Thursday dinner with the Prescott’s tradition. 

John is sick and only works three days a week. Rebecca thinks even that is too much, but he refuses to cut back any more. It’s lung cancer, and Howard has the best doctors on it.

JJ and John continue to fight over the business. For the most part, it is the disagreements Darcy remembers John having with his own father. JJ is young and bright and eager. He wants to blaze new trails, take the design world by storm. But some of the fights are different, there’s a hard edge to them.

One day they come home yelling. JJ accusing John of ending a contract just so JJ wouldn’t have the money for his summer novelty line. Their shouting draws Darcy and Rebecca from other parts of the house, to the living room where John is pouring himself a drink.

“We’ll take the money from something else then! You’ll have your damned line, Jamie!” John drops his head forward into his hand. 

“Dad.” JJ’s tense shoulders droop. “What-“

“I said you’d get the line. I don’t want to talk about it. Go to your dinner.” John notices Darcy and Rebecca and straightens. “That’s final.”

“No, Dad, it’s business, I should-“

“Go to your dinner. Andrew will be waiting.” John pours another drink, yanking his tie undone. “Remember to bring home the chocolate pie for your Aunt Darcy.”

JJ looks between Darcy and his mother. 

“Go on, darling. You don’t want to be late.”

John’s tie is draped over the back of a chair, and he flips over two more glasses. 

“I’ll see about a tray.” Darcy leaves to give them a few minutes. The cook, a kind woman called Vera who has two adorable children that she sometimes brings to work, is already working on dinner.

Darcy has long since learned the way Vera’s kitchen works, and knows better than to start digging in the fridge. Sure enough, Vera already has some appetizers ready and instructs Darcy on where to find them, and how to plate them.

When Darcy returns to the living room, Rebecca is sitting in the armchair, and John stands looking out the window. 

“Dick Rochester said some unpleasant things.” Rebecca says as Darcy sets the tray on the gleaming coffee table. “About JJ.”

“Does JJ know?” Darcy asks, and Rebecca shakes her head, shooting a worried look towards John. 

“And you ended the Rochesters contract?”

John turns from the window and comes to sit at one end of the couch. He digs out a cigarette with irritated movements, and Darcy goes to crack the window. He gives her a grateful look. 

“Twenty years we’ve had the Rochesters line.” John takes a long drag off his cigarette, tapping the ash into jade glass ashtray. “Dick has always been-

“A dick?” Darcy offers, and John cracks a tiny smile that’s gone as soon as it appears. 

“No one says those things about my son, and then turns around and asks him to create for them, work for them.” 

“So the contract is ended. The business is fine, John. And JJ is fine.” Rebecca takes John’s hand. He brings it up to his lips to press a kiss to it, but the heavy look doesn’t fade from his eyes. 

“They say he’s sick.” John leans forward, grabbing his drink again at Rebecca’s sound of distress. “We go to church on Sunday and they say it’s against God, Geraldine put a page ripped out of the American Psychology Association’s book of mental disorders on my desk-“

“She what?” Rebecca’s hand is on her chest. “That’s why you fired her?”

“They say there’s something wrong with our boy.” John’s hand makes a fist. “But Jamie’s a good boy. He’s a hard worker, he loves his mother, he wouldn’t hurt a soul, and Andrew, well he’s a good boy too. Makes JJ happy. I just don’t-“

“John.” Darcy crawls onto the couch next to him, taking his fist into her hands. “John, listen to me. Where I’m from? They’ve done tests. Genetic tests, brainwaves, psychiatric evaluations, shock therapy, you name it, it’s been done.”

“Shock therapy?” Rebecca whispers.

“And every reputable source says the same thing. There is nothing wrong with people like JJ. Absolutely nothing.” Darcy pulls his hand open and weaves her fingers through his. “There are still people who question it and fight it, but where I’m from people like JJ and Andrew can get married in some places. They can adopt children and raise a family. People like Dick Rochester? They’re on the wrong side of history, okay? And our boy is just fine the way he is.”

A tear rolls down John’s cheek.

“Oh, John.” Rebecca leaves her chair to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The both of them are too thin, John from the treatments, and Rebecca from worry. It's not good for Rebecca, her spirit has always been strong, but since the strain of the miscarriages Rebecca's health has always been fickle. 

They have a quiet dinner in, and the next day John is back to the steady man he’s always been. JJ and Andrew come to Thursday dinner, and Andrew plays the piano in the music room, making up songs as he goes. 

Howard ignores calls from his wife and only gets updates from a very disapproving EJ. Two months in Darcy accepts an invitation to go and stay with Peggy in DC, if only to force Howard to face up to his marital problems. From what Darcy can pick up, Howard and Maria are both passionate people. Many of Maria’s arguments are valid, Howard does drink too much, and he does spend too much time away from home. 

Charles comes with Peggy to pick Darcy up. Darcy listens as they tell her about their two grandchildren, Rick and Donald.

Peggy switches to updating her about work. Peggy’s talking about a scientist they’re watching called Hank Pym with Darcy feels herself leaving again. 

It’s only been two months and Darcy cries out. “No!” Then she grabs for Peggy. “Take care of Rebecca!”


	25. Chapter 25

In 1981, Howard meets her with a grim face.

She takes a deep breath. “John?”

“Aw, kid. We lost him just after you left.” Howard helps her into the car. EJ is driving. “We’re going to go so you can be with Rebecca. JJ is going to need you.”

Darcy’s heart shatters in her chest. “Rebecca?”

“She’s got a day or two at best, kid. There’s nothing to be done except make her comfortable. She’s at home, that’s what she wanted.”

JJ hugs her and burrows into her when he sees her. Andrew looks uncertain as JJ clings.

“Drew, this is my Aunt Darcy.” JJ says firmly, and leads Darcy into Rebecca’s bedroom. He must explain it later, because Andrew accepts it.

Rebecca smiles when she wakes up and sees Darcy there.

Darcy crawls into bed with her and does her best to keep a smile on her face. She talks about crossing the pipe and that week with Bucky and keeping the radio turned up loud to preserve Rebecca’s dignity.

“Dignity? My mother?” JJ quips from the chair next to the bed.

Darcy is holding one hand and JJ has the other when Rebecca passes away. Howard, Peggy and Gabe are waiting in the hall.

Peggy runs the house, and handles the arrangements. Gabe’s wife Grace makes sure there’s food.

Darcy helps JJ plan the funeral. It’s a small affair, with the extended Prescott family, the Commandos, Peggy, Howard, and most of the employees from the two New York shops in attendance.

JJ holds Darcy’s hand tightly with Andrew on his other side. Darcy goes back to the Prescott house with them to help sort through things.

She ends up staying up late with Andrew one night, packing boxes of pictures. They’d found an entire album of pictures of Darcy.

“The first time I met you, I thought you had some kind of weird swinging relationship going on.” Andrew says, and Darcy looks up from a picture of her with Rebecca at the old house. “You were dancing with Mr. Prescott, and at first I didn’t see Mrs. Prescott.  
He was holding you like he loved you. I thought JJ was going to go through the roof, or something.”

Darcy blinks away tears.

“Then I see Mrs. Prescott watching the two of you and smiling, and JJ wasn’t angry. He was teasing you.” He tapes a box shut and stands. “I’ll bring you some tea. Want anything in it?”

“Whiskey.” Darcy answers, turning the page to find pictures from JJ’s fifth birthday party, when all the children had been airplanes.

JJ offers to keep the house for her, but Darcy can’t imagine coming to spend time there alone. So they pack everything, and then Howard has a company take over. Darcy stays in the New York apartment so she can be close for JJ.

She goes out for drinks with him and Andrew, helps select the headstone to pair with John’s, and catches a cab over to his apartment late one night when Andrew calls.

They have brunch on Sundays, and she works with Howard at the New York office. She works at home too, because when she’s not busy her grief threatens to swallow her whole.

She attends Gabe’s son Davis’ graduation from law school with Gabe and Grace. Peggy and Charles are there as well. Gabe and Grace invite her back to their house for the party, and Peggy firmly tells her to go.

It’s a yard party at Gabe’s lakefront house. There are lights strung up and loud music that only gets louder as the night goes on. Darcy dances on the dock and swims and eventually she looks around and realizes everyone over forty is gone.

Davis is on the boat with his girlfriend Shonda, and Gabe’s daughter Tina is still on the dance floor.

Darcy climbs out of the water unsteadily, ignoring the hand a man in neon green swim trunks offers her. All the faces are unfamiliar as she makes her way back up to the house.

There’s a smaller group in the living room, drunkenly playing cards. They look up at her and away again when they realize she’s not one of their friends or one of the older people come down to tell them to keep it down.

She feels so alone as she crawls into the strange bed. She hugs Gabe goodbye the next day and congratulates an obviously hung over and suffering Davis.

When they get off the plane, Peggy stops her with a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”

Darcy nods, because that’s all she can give. She checks in with JJ and Andrew, and then she catches a cab. She passes Broad and Halls Ferry and has him drop her at the old apartment.

“You sure, honey?” The cabbie asks. “I can wait.”

“I’m sure.” Darcy tells him, paying him.

He pulls away and she goes to sit on the steps. They’re stone and in poor condition, but still the same. Darcy laughs. Just like her.

She leans her head against the rail and closes her eyes. “Fuck.”

She can almost hear Rebecca saying it back.

“Steve.” Darcy whispers. “I’m not sure I can do this. I know I always said that I was strong, but I think I might have been wrong.”

She lets out a ragged breath. “It’s just, I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’ll take care of JJ, of course. I know I have to do that. I will.”

A knot rises in her throat. “It turns out I need people. I’m better with people, and I was the best with you. You told me to take care of Rebecca, and I did. I did.”

“Come on, kid. It’s time to go home.” Howard says, and she opens her eyes and he’s standing right in front of her.

“I am home.”

“Not anymore.” Howard picks her up, an arm under her knees and one around her back. She feels him strain, but he manages it.

EJ stands at the car door holding it open, and Maria Stark sits inside the car. Gleaming dark hair pinned back, fur wrapped around her neck, spicy perfume filling the air. She’s warmer, softer than she seemed in the society photos.

“Hello poppet.” Maria says, smoothing a hand over Darcy’s hair. “It’s alright now.”

Howard and Maria take her back to the mansion. Her old room, Steve’s old room, is the same as she’d last seen it. All of her clothes, from every visit, are in the wardrobes. The few bits and pieces of Steve’s things are still mixed in, like the old radio and a pair of cuff links.

Her grief has sucked her down into a pit. It all merges together. John and Rebecca, Steve and Bucky. She’s ripped open again, when she’d just managed to get herself mostly stitched together.

She’s the only one left with those memories of the two apartments four stories up but right next to each other. Of Mrs. Barnes’ knowing look that made you as good as confess.

How in the hell is she supposed to keep going without Rebecca to keep and share her secrets? Without John’s even presence keeping them both steady through it all? Hell, how she needs him to come in and pick her up and carry her into Rebecca’s room. Leave them in bed with a breakfast tray.

For weeks she really only manages to pull herself together enough to ride into the city for brunches with JJ and Andrew. Even those leave her wrecked for the drive back because JJ is the perfect mixture of his parents. He has John’s pale hair and Rebecca’s dark mischievous eyes. He makes expressions that scream the both of them. He has John’s way of looking at you like he sees you at your core and likes you just fine, and he has Rebecca’s laugh.

Howard and Maria are always there. Howard with a glass of whiskey for her, Maria with tea.

They go with her to Barcelona to be at the finish line of the International Sailboat Race, with tickets that Rebecca had bought a year back. They watch JJ, Andrew and their team take first place. JJ drags her into the victory photo, with the rest of the team’s family members. His arm around her middle, Andrew’s hand on her shoulder, sun and sand and laughter.

Back at the mansion she finally thinks to ask where Anthony is and learns that Howard and Maria had compromised on boarding school. Howard had wanted tutors, but Maria insisted Anthony needed peers. None of the traditional schools challenged him.

After two months, one day Falsworth just shows up at the breakfast table. Darcy comes down, and there he is.

She hasn’t seen him since the funeral. He has her in the air that afternoon. He brings in a plane like the one she’d first learned in, and the next week there is a different kind, and the week after that another type. It’s challenging and interesting and something to look forward to.

When she returns from a flight and sees Howard’s white head up on the patio, she starts that way. Then she slows, seeing a boy with black hair sitting between Howard and Maria.

“Darcy!” Maria motions her forward, then leans her head down to whisper to Tony. Anthony. Anthony, Darcy reminds herself.

“Hey kid.” Howard greets her, motioning to the lunch spread on the table. He wears a pair of glasses that he’s too vain to wear most of the time.

“Tony, darling, this is Darcy.” Maria says.

Tony looks at her doubtfully. Darcy isn’t sure she’s ever felt so scrutinized, or has been found so wanting. Especially not by an eleven year old. “But how is she my sister?”

“She just is. You two are going to take care of each other.” Maria says firmly. She looks at Darcy over Tony’s head and nods.

“She’ll keep you from blowing off any _important_ appendages.” Howard tells him.

“Howard!” Maria chastises. “Sit, Darcy. Have lunch with us.”


	26. Chapter 26

“Will you teach me to fly?” Tony asks her. He’s sullen because Maria made him come outside. He wants to be in Howard’s lab, but Howard is working on neurotoxins. “Mom already said you could.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” 

“Because you’re a naturally distrustful person?” Tony suggests.

“Do you know Peggy?” Darcy asks him, making her circle around the pond. She’s suddenly put in mind of her own childhood, being forced to take walks with the adults after holiday dinners before dessert could be served. Hell, she’s the boring grown-up. 

Tony shrugs his shoulder. “Aunt Peggy comes around sometimes.”

“She says I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“And my character says I’d be shit at flying?” Tony asks, scoffing.

“What do they teach you at that school?” Darcy asks him. JJ had been so sweet at his age. 

“Not flying.” 

“If your mother tells me it’s okay, in person,” she adds, because she’s talking to Tony Stark here, “I’ll give you some lessons.”

“In the jet, right? Not in something boring.” 

Darcy splits her time between the two male Starks. She tries to keep Howard sane in the lab, but he’s hot on the scent of a new discovery. When he’s not in the lab he’s short with everyone from his family to his employees. 

And she takes Tony up in the jet. She teaches him about the gauges. More often than not he declares them stupid and asks why they aren’t put together this way or that. Once he tried to dismantle part of her dashboard while they were in-air. 

She hadn’t planned on ever letting him take control. She’d leave that for Falsworth in a year or two. But he’s an insanely quick learner and can talk her through every movement she makes.

So three weeks after they begin, she hands the controls over to him and he takes them up, in a wide circle, and brings them back down all on his own. 

Howard barely reacts when Tony tells him, and Darcy kicks him hard under the table. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve just got to get this down.” Howard says, already pushing up from his seat.

“Howard, sit down.” Maria says. “Howard!” 

Maria watches him leave, then stares down into her lap. Then she looks up with a strained smile. “That’s wonderful, darling. Perhaps your father can arrange for more lessons while you’re at school?”

Tony shrugs his shoulder. 

Later he tells Darcy he wants her to keep teaching him.

“I might not be able to.” She tells him, before rushing to reassure him. “I want to. Of course I want to.”

“Then why can’t you? People find a way to do the things they want to.” This is said almost sourly. 

“I don’t really have a choice.” Darcy says, but she can see that he doesn’t believe her. “Something happened to me, and it makes me leave where I am and pop up someplace else. It happened in a laboratory.”

“In my dad’s lab?” 

“No.” Darcy bites back a grimace. It had happened in Jane’s lab. 

She nearly loses her balance. Jane. She hadn’t thought of Jane in so long. Sweet, terrible, genius idiot Jane. Is someone feeding her? 

“Where will you pop up? Dad will come get you.” Tony says, drawing her attention back to him.

“It’s not that simple. It’s not just places, but years. Your dad has been taking care of me for years and years.” Darcy looks up at the sky. The leaves are changing, and she can remember a fall day years ago with JJ and a bright yellow leaf. “My friends are dying now. My best friend died, that’s why I’m here. Your mom and dad came and got me and brought me here.”

“You’re a time traveler?” Tony asks, for once his air of disinterest completely dropping away.

“Kind of. I don’t know how it works. But at any time, I could disappear, and I’ll reappear years from now.”

“So someday I’ll be older than you.” Tony purses his lips. “That’s cool.”

Darcy looks away. She’s not about to explain to him the ways that it’s very not cool that people keep aging on her. 

“How old are you now?” Tony asks.

“Twenty-five.” 

“Thirteen years. That’s all it would take.” Tony nods his head. “Can you do thirteen years?”

Thirteen years. How old would Howard be then? Peg and the Commandos? Hell, what about JJ? 

“Woah. Are you okay? Should I get my dad?” Tony looks up at her with just a hint of a child still in his eyes. So certain that his father could handle anything.

“Fine.” Darcy forces a smile that she can tell Tony doesn’t buy it. He’s a shrewd kid. “It’s just that I don’t want to skip anymore years. It’s really hard. I want to stop.”

“Maybe I can fix it. Mom said we had to take care of each other.” Tony offers, nodding to himself. Then he cocks his head. “What if you taught me a barrel roll? Would that make you feel better?”

She’s standing on the mansion steps, saying goodbye to Tony who is headed back to his boarding school, when she leaves. Howard, Maria, and EJ are all there. 

“It’ll be alright, kid.” Howard promises.

“Thirteen years!” Tony shouts.


	27. Chapter 27

It’s five years. She nearly gets hit by a car that pulls into her alley rapidly. They lay on the horn like it’s her fault.

She uses a pay phone to call for a cab and goes to the New York apartment that Howard had set aside for her. She showers and changes into clothes she’d left behind.

She eyes the phone with dread. It can’t be helped. Howard is sixty-eight now, and he’s hardly led a healthy lifestyle. She pours herself a drink, her favored brand kept in stock, then picks up the phone and dials the mansion.

“Stark residence.” EJ answers. His voice sounds papery.

“Hey EJ.”

“Mrs. Rogers.” There’s a bit more warmth in his tone. “Welcome back. Do you have a pen, I’ll give you Mr. Stark’s telephone number.”

Relief floods her. Howard has been her guide. Her steady rock. “I’m ready.”

She dials the number on the mint green rotary phone and waits while it rings.

“Go.”

“Really, Howard?”

“Kid.” His voice sounds heavy and her heart drops. Fear floods her.

“What? What is it? Is it Peggy? The Commandos?”

“Calm down, nobody died. We do have a problem. We need someone we can trust in LA.” Darcy hears voices in the background. “It’s Darcy. Well, kid? Will you come out?”

“Tell me when and where. I do want to see JJ and Andrew-“

“We need you yesterday.” Howard says distractedly. “I’ll get it arranged. You good with flying yourself? I can get you something to the mansion in an hour. They’ll bring the flight plan.”

The cars are boxier in 1986. There are more billboards and neon lights. But the mansion estate is the same, and that’s comforting to her.

Maria is there, along with a camera crew. Maria gives Darcy a hostess smile and comes down the steps to greet her. She hugs her and kisses both of her cheeks whispering, “House tour. Of course Howard forgot. I’ll get them back inside, you make sure he comes home.”

Darcy nods and Maria hugs her again, once more, tightly. Then she turns around, deflecting questions about Darcy’s identity and coaxing the crew back inside, promising a peek at Howard’s home office.

She means the study. Howard’s office is down in the vault. But the crew doesn’t know that and they forget about Darcy.

Darcy runs for the airstrip, not sure how long Maria can keep them occupied and away from window. She performs her pre-flight check, reads the flight plan, and is in the air in ten minutes.

She lands on an aircraft carrier a hundred miles out to sea, and Jacques is waiting under her wing. He holds his arms up, so Darcy drops but she winces when she hits him because she can feel him stagger a bit, struggle.

He jokes that she’s gotten heavier and kisses the top of her head.

He leads her to a control room where Peggy and Howard sit with Dum-Dum, Fred Phillips, and two people Darcy doesn’t know.

One is Mitchell Carson, SHIELD’s Head of Defense. The other is Hank Pym, and Darcy remembers that he is a scientist, one that Peggy had once considered worthy of watching.

Carson objects to Darcy’s presence, and Darcy notices that Pym slows his efforts to pack up his things.

“Mitchell. Please.” Peggy says firmly. She has several gray streaks in her hair, and her face wears many wrinkles. Darcy looks around the room to give herself time to accept that Peggy is an old woman. Still a badass though.

“Keep me apprised.” He says firmly, then leaves after Peggy nods.

Howard rolls his eyes and moves around the table to remove two boxy listening devices, one from under the table and one from under Carson’s chair. He breaks them in half, then sets his own black box on the table and presses a button.

A small whining sound fills the room.

“Hank, this is Darcy Lewis. She is the only person I would trust with this. She flew from New York to be here with us.”

“Why would I trust SHIELD when it’s your scientists fault in the first place that this has happened?” Pym’s hand makes a fist and he bangs it on the table. “Janet gave her life in service of this organization, and you go behind our backs-“

“Hank, please. This is not about Janet. And Miss Lewis is not a SHIELD operative. She, like Mr. Stark, is one of my most trusted friends.”

“Hank, you can shrink to the size of an ant. Don’t let her age fool you.” Howard warns. Then he stands and approaches Darcy. “Hey kid. How are you doing?”

“Miss Lewis is returning after having taken some time off after the death of a close friend. It followed on the heels of the death of her husband.” Peggy says, and Howard stiffens.

Darcy looks at Peggy and thinks she sees a flash of apology in her eyes for a second. Then Peggy is eyeing Pym.

It worked. Pym is now looking at Darcy in consideration.

“Miss Lewis is a skilled pilot. She can take you where you need to go, and get you home.” Peggy says. “While she is not trained in combat, she has functioned well as Mr. Stark’s lab assistant.”

“More than well. She was my partner on several projects. She can help you once you get in.” Howard corrects.

Dum-Dum is leading the SHIELD team that accompanies them. Darcy notices that he hangs back more, only stepping in when needed.

When they reach the lab he helps bar the door and then comes to stand next to Darcy.

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Darcy winces, but keeps searching the lab. The sounds in the hall make it clear they don’t have a lot of time.

“Here!” Pym yells. On a screen is his stolen work.

Darcy runs over as there’s a small explosion in the hall.

Pym looks at her, and then at the door. “Tell me right now, can I trust you to destroy this? No copies, no tricks.”

Darcy looks him in the eye. “I’m not SHIELD. I’ll do what’s right.”

He nods and turns, shrinking before her eyes to almost a speck.

Darcy destroys the work, then sets the computer on fire. She checks the remaining computers for hardware links, but they’re clean. She finds a stack of floppy disks and checks those as well, stuffing one into her shirt.

“Let’s go.”

Dum-Dum nods. They fight their way back out, doing well until there’s another explosion. Darcy looks up from the floor to find herself staring down the barrel of a gun, then suddenly the man flies backwards.

“Keep moving!” Pym yells, seemingly from nowhere.

They make it to the plane and Darcy gets them in the air. Someone is wounded and she can hear them moaning as they’re tended to.

It’s the first time she deploys missiles. Three times she presses a button, and then hears the explosion, seeing the dots fade off her radar.

When they land she gives Pym the floppy disc and walks directly to Howard.

“Come on kid. I’ve got a boat.”

She elects to stop in and see Tony. Howard continues on, saying he’s in the middle of something.

Darcy plans to visit Tony, then fly back to New York. She’s already called JJ and Andrew to schedule brunch.

She finds Tony in the MIT labs. They’re empty at this time of night, and his work area is a mess. Going on what she’s heard from Jane, his work habits don’t change much over the years.

He’s lanky, with lean muscles. He’s fifteen, so he’s still got some growing to do. His hair is a mess.

“Hi Tony.” She says, but he doesn’t look up from his soldering iron. Instead she walks around the small room. She nearly jumps out of her skin when a large hunk of metal rolls forward holding a fire extinguisher.

“I learned a barrel roll on my own.”

“I hope you don’t mean that literally.” She sighs. “Of course you do.”

He pushes back in his rolly chair and knocks into a wall. “When did you get back?”

“Two days ago.”

“Have you seen dad?” There’s something else to his question, but Darcy doesn’t know what it could be. So she nods. He huffs out a laugh. “You sure you’re not really his kid?”

Darcy laughs. “I am one hundred and ten percent positive I share no genetic makers with either of you.”

Pepper Potts had checked. She’d insisted after they’d met in person.

Tony’s brows go up arrogantly. “Mathematically impossible. I hate it when people say that. They sound like idiots.”

“I love saying it. Sometimes I say a bazillion percent.” Tony actually winces.

He digs through two tool boxes, then rolls his chair across the room to another. Darcy boosts herself up to sit on the cleanest desk.

“I don’t understand why people get married. It’s the stupidest thing ever.” He says after several minutes of silence.

"I got married. Best decision I ever made.”

“ _You_ were married?” Tony stops what he’s doing to look at her in disbelief. “Oh fuck. Did he like, get old and die on you?”

“He just died.”

“My fake sister comes with a dead fake brother-in-law.” Tony goes back to digging through the tool box and comes up with a huge socket wrench. He rolls back to his workstation. “Uh. How are you doing with that?”

“Super shitty.” Darcy responds.

“Want to weld stuff? I could teach you.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. Had to change a few things around, and then nothing seemed right. I'm back in my groove now.
> 
> Also, sorry.

She works with Howard, who hasn’t slowed down a bit. Tony comes to visit, and with Maria she manages to drag Howard from the lab for dinner.

It doesn’t go well, even with Darcy and Maria working together to steer the conversation away from sensitive topics towards the beginning. Maria downs her glass of wine in three gulps during the first fight over Tony skipping his classes. By the time they start disagreeing on what Tony will do when he takes over Stark Industries, Maria is slightly slumped in her seat and just watches with a tense expression.

Tony goes out to party that night and ends up in the papers. _Stark Heir: 15 years old and out of control! Maria Stark is Heartbroken: Tony is just like his father! Tony Stark Headed to Rehab! Alcohol, Drugs and Older Women: the life of an out of control heir_.

Maria and Howard fight about it, Darcy can hear their voices echoing down the hall. As usual, they can’t come to an agreement.

Darcy starts flying to MIT every two weeks to spend a few days with Tony in the labs. She knows a bit of coding, and quite a bit about mechanical engineering thanks to her time with Jane, and then with Howard. Tony teaches her until she knows her way around his extremely complicated programs equally complicated machines.

They take helicopter flying lessons together. They start getting donuts after shit nights of programming, and it becomes a little tradition.

Maria goes on another ‘retreat’. Tony is old enough and smart enough to know it’s another attempt to dry her out. Howard disembarks for London, the way he always does when Maria won’t be home. Tony holds it against him, even though visitors aren’t allowed.

Darcy does her best to calm the waters, but it’s Maria who settles them back into their uneasy truce when she returns after ninety days and they all spend a weekend in Spain.

Darcy isn’t stupid, she realizes the trip coincides with Rebecca’s birthday. Peggy and Dum-Dum fly out. Darcy calls JJ, and Howard stops by her balcony to put a drink in her hand. Tony finds her later and replaces her empty glass with a mess of gears and wires.

She wakes up to Maria pulling a quilt over her. Howard stands over Tony, who is already covered with his own blanket, holding what Darcy is pretty sure is a robot arm, looking baffled and proud. Maria softly brushes Darcy’s hair out of her face.

“Sleep, poppet.” She kisses the top of Darcy’s head, and Darcy slips back to sleep.

Howard steals her away back to London. He’s consulting for Peg, and Darcy is glad to see the tension drain and the two of them slip back into the honest and blunt relationship that is good for the both of them. Peggy has always been able to keep after Howard until she manages to strip, sometimes painfully, his bluster away and get at his true motivations. Make him face himself.

And Howard has always been able to call Peggy on her shit. Peggy hates it, but she needs it and Darcy can tell the other woman knows it. They’re working in one of Howard’s private labs, separate from both SHIELD and Stark Industries.

Darcy comes back from a lunch time phone chat with JJ, who stops in on a buying trip, to Peggy yelling at Howard and Dum-Dum. Dum-Dum is standing chest to chest with Howard.

Dum-Dum steps forward, jostling Howard back. The two are yelling, their voices echoing in the large lab space. Peggy yells for the two of them to stop before she shoots them both.

Dum-Dum roars at something Howard says, and Howard lifts his chin. Darcy shoves herself between the two men. She turns and plants two hands on Dum-Dum’s chest and shoves. After glaring at Howard over her head, Dum-Dum stalks away.

Darcy turns on Howard. “What the hell?”

“Dugan’s decided he’s a scientist and knows-“ Howard cuts off, likely hearing the same worry-inducing high pitched whine. They both look towards the table. As one they both lunge at it, hands flying. Darcy realizes they’re too late at the same moment Howard’s arm wraps around her and tugs her backwards.

The explosion is bright and hot and throws them backwards.

An alarm wails and Howard scrambles up. He’s flipping switches and Darcy stands up to grab an extinguisher, putting out the fire.

“I told him!” Dum-Dum yells, crawling over the over-turned tables towards Darcy.

Howard rubs a hand over his face and turns to face Darcy. “I guess we’re gonna have to leave building robots to Tony. Did I tell you he built a robot at MIT? Responds to voice commands. I told Peggy he was a genius when he was two! And do you know what she did?”

“I was there, Howard. She rolled her eyes.”

“She rolled her eyes!” Howard looks back over the tables again, then turns his attention to Darcy, gingerly examining her shoulder. “Come on kid, let’s go get this checked out.”

Darcy looks up at him and opens her mouth.

“My toe is fine, you ingrate.”

Darcy shares a plane back to the States with JJ, so she can see this robot. Tony isn’t half so pleased with it as Howard. He’s named it Dum-E, and the poor thing really does try.

Tony threatens to break it down for scrap. Darcy points out that the programming itself is a success, and Tony scoffs. But the bot does respond to voice commands, knows it’s name, and even seems to learn. Half of its problems stem from its eagerness to help and always getting in Tony’s way.

Darcy finally shoves a fire extinguisher into its claw, and that seems to temper its need to be useful.

They go out for burgers once, and it’s the second time the press ties her to a Stark. This time her face is obscured by the window, and on the way out, Tony’s driver.

Howard does his best to squash it, and Darcy decides to take JJ and Andrew up on their invitation of a two week vacation out at the country house to take advantage of the warmth of mid-summer.

She burns in the sun. She drags them to see _Labyrinth_ on opening night, and they go see it another two times. They wade in the river JJ learned to swim in, paddling back and forth between Darcy and Rebecca.

Gabe and Grace drive up for a weekend. They head out for dinner one night, Grace wearing one of the dresses JJ had sent her. Later Gabe wraps his arm around JJ’s shoulder, while he explains why JJ is wrong about liking the Dodgers. Going by JJ’s expression, it’s not the first time. Doesn’t matter, Rebecca and John raised him right.

But Darcy is glad to see it. To see the good relationship between them, and to know that other people are there for JJ and Andrew when she’s not able to be.

They all drink too much, and Gabe gets to talking.

“No. No.” JJ gasps, clutching his stomach as he continues to laugh. He'd switched to water so he could drive home, but he doesn't seem to be suffering as the only sober one.

“He’s exaggerating!” Darcy sniffs. “No one else got sick, and everyone ate the same pie.”

“Sure, girlie. Sure.” Gabe leans forward. “Jac was passing him sandwiches and water through the crack in the door.”

“You’re going to make yourself sick!” Andrew pushes another glass of water closer to JJ, who looks just like Rebecca when he laughs. He shakes with it, like he has since he was little, and Andrew rubs a hand over his back.

JJ looks at her, tears of mirth in his eyes. Waiting.

“You’re mother was the one that taught me that trick.” Darcy tells him. “Couldn’t cook anything before I met her.”

“You know, now that I think about it, Dum-Dum was always unnaturally polite to Becks.” Gabe says, chuckling. “And how about the time you punched Falsworth? There wasn’t a one of us that didn’t want to punch Falsworth at one time or another.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Grace laughs. “But I think we should be heading back. It’s getting late.”

“Let me run and get the car.” JJ is already up and out of his seat. “Need to walk this off anyway, or I’ll be having laughing fits all night.”

Darcy is glad for JJ’s quick thinking. The streets outside are steep, and the sidewalks uneven. Parking had been a mess. Gabe is less steady on his feet than he used to be, but too stubborn to admit it.

Darcy watches JJ’s blonde hair disappear in the crowded restaurant.

“What about the time we got stuck in that distillery?” Gabe reaches across the table to pat Darcy’s cheek. “Our girl here bet she could drink Jac under the table. She did too, should have known, what with her running with Howard all the time. The man drinks rocket fuel, Andrew.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Andrew laughs. “Mr. Stark stopped by once, and we get invitations to some of their parties.”

“Well, Jac, he’s swaying in his seat, talking in French, slurring something awful, and Darcy’s as steady as you please. Jac goes over, damn near broke his nose on the floor, and Darcy,” Gabe grins and shakes his head, his hand now cupping her cheek, “Darcy turns to Morita and says carry me out, I’m gonna puke.”

JJ comes back, tossing the keys in his hand. “Got a spot right up front. Gabe, you ever here about the first time Aunt Darcy met my Uncle Bucky?”

Darcy sits in the back with Grace and Gabe, enjoying the sound of their laughter and teasing voices.

JJ turns, looking back at her with dancing dark eyes. “Tell Andrew I hit one of the stone swans at the mansion and that’s why Maria had them moved!”

“Darcy, no.” Andrew begs.

“It’s true, young padawan.” Darcy tells him as they reach the long driveway that leads to the house. “It was in Rebecca’s new car too.”

“The 65’ convertible mustang.” JJ sighs. “Red and white.”

“She loved that thing.” Darcy grins. “Drove too fast.”

JJ laughs. “Glove box of every car she owned was lined with speeding tickets. New one fell out every time she opened it.”

“No, no. How did I never know about this? That car, JJ. _That_ car.” Andrew jogs up the steps and fishes his keys out of his pocket. Bugs buzz around the hanging lamp. “I could never have stayed with you if I knew.”

"Well, that's a load of bullshit, son." Gabe tells him. "Knew first time I met you that you two weren't just 'friends' like you were telling us."

“I fixed it with the money I made from my first line.” JJ promises Andrew, and begs his forgiveness as they make their way into the house. “Grace you remember that?”

“Tina loved that line. You should have seen her face when she opened her Christmas gift that year. Gabe got her three of those dresses.”

Andrew offers to pour another round of drinks, but Darcy waves him off. “We’ll let you kids stay up.”

“Sure? How about-“

JJ cuts Andrew off with a kiss. Darcy doesn’t hear any other objections. Gabe and Grace are sleeping in one of the rooms on the main floor, so they part ways at the stairs because she’s in the same room she’d always taken.

It had been a good night. The memories hadn’t hurt quite so much, and now she feels at home, surrounded by pictures and mementos from years of vacations spent here.

As she settles in, she hears Phil Collins float up the stairs along with JJ’s laugh.


	29. Chapter 29

Back in New York, Darcy keeps up a schedule of Sunday brunches with JJ and Andrew. She also is invited to Andrew’s thirty-sixth birthday party, which is a family affair in a swanky restaurant. The restaurant is crowded and filled with people in fancy dress. As Darcy squeezes through the crowd she bumps more than a few boxy pagers clipped to hips. 

She’s introduced as JJ’s cousin when she reaches the table. She’s the only member of JJ’s family present. Unlike JJ, Andrew has siblings, and he still has both his parents and one of his grandmothers.

She’s there for moral support. Andrew’s family has just started accepting them as a couple, and therefore they’ve only recently begun seeing them. 

Andrew’s mother Elaine is sweet and incredibly nervous. As the dinner progresses, she’s almost desperate to smooth any rough spots, and to include JJ in the conversation. Andrew’s father Gene mops at his forehead with a handkerchief, and watches the people at the tables nearby. 

Darcy glares down Andrew’s oldest sister over appetizers, and then again over dessert. She’d once called Andrew a pervert at Christmas and told him not to go near the children. Tonight, she seems content to make snarky remarks, cowed by her mother’s sharp looks. She spends the meal looking like she’s sucking on a lemon.   
Darcy shares a cab ride home with Andrew and JJ, and the two of them laugh over it. But when the cab stops at Darcy’s apartment building, JJ climbs out of the cab to give her hug.

“Thanks Aunt Darcy.” He says quietly, giving one of those full body hugs the Barnes were all so good at.   
Summer still hasn’t let go on an uncommonly warm September Sunday when JJ and Andrew never show for brunch. She goes home and calls them to no answer and leaves a message. The next day she takes a cab to their apartment and when her knocks aren’t answered, she lets herself in with her key.

The state of their apartment reassures her. All the dishes are put away and everything is neat. Not like they’d just left in the morning and not come back.

Still she calls Howard at work. The secretary is wary of interrupting him. Darcy tries the magic words again. “It’s Darcy Lewis.”

“Kid?” Howard is saying minutes later, sounding only half there. “If this isn’t important-

“JJ and Andrew stood me up for brunch yesterday. I’m at their apartment and they aren’t here.” 

Howard says nothing for a few seconds, then when he speaks she can tell she has his attention. “I’ll call down to the marina. Why don’t you head over here? You want me to send a driver?”

“No, I can take a cab. Thanks, Howard.”

JJ and Andrew are declared missing by noon after it’s discovered that they set out on a day cruise on Friday afternoon. The coast guard cooperates with a group ‘performing a military training exercise’ that ‘happened to be in the area’. 

After five days they’re declared lost at sea. 

Peggy does Darcy’s make up and pins a blonde wig on her head so she can attend the funeral with the extended Prescott family. Darcy doesn’t know what to do with the way Peggy touches her softly, fingers carding through her hair, gently buttoning her dress, and finally squeezing Darcy’s hand tightly. 

Howard and Maria go with her, and stand on either side of her. Peggy and the Commandos stand at the back. She’s numb through the entire thing, until the coffin starts to lower, and then breaks down. Her sweet JJ. 

After the funeral she doesn’t go to the wake. She’d have to think too much, to hide herself.

Instead Howard and Maria host a Rogers Circle wake at the mansion. There is food, but there’s also a lot to drink. Darcy isn’t sure who carries her up to bed, only that the sun is still high in sky.

It’s dark when she’s woken up by a knock at the door. 

“I may have stolen a car. But my dad owns it, so is it really a crime?” Tony says, standing on the other side.

“And Howard doesn’t know yet? Your driver is so fired.”

“I may have locked him in the lab.” Tony shrugs. “So, I hear hugs are a thing in situations like this.”

Darcy hugs him. 

“Man, you are short. You make me feel tall.” He mutters, then his arms tighten around her when she starts to cry. “Darcy, I’m really not good with tears or crying or really genuine emotion in general.”

He shuffles her backwards in the room. “Are you drunk? Because I’m slightly better with drunk tears.”

He gets her back in bed, then gets her a glass of water from the bathroom, and two pain pills. Then he nods to himself. “Much better with drunks. Now I’ll sit with you and make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.”

He sits on the bed with his back to the headboard. After a second he puts a hand on her shoulder. “To make sure you’re still breathing.”

Apparently he can do that better if he’s rubbing her shoulder gently and wiping the tears off her face with the sheet. 

A few weeks later Peggy asks Darcy to come to SHIELD and help program some fail safes. Peggy doesn’t say as much, but Darcy figures she’s preparing for her retirement. It’s also part of what seems like everyone’s master plan to keep Darcy too busy to think, and always with someone. 

Darcy spends weeks writing code. She might add a few bits and pieces about pirates in leather coats for the hell of it. And maybe also added Son of Coul, I’m telling Thor. It makes her laugh, and it makes her feel closer to Jane and times spent in the New Mexico desert. 

She has to consult with Tony several times. Peggy listens in on the conversations. When Darcy hangs up she smirks. “Howard was right. That boy is a genius.”

A lot of what Darcy does is hiding encrypted files. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t ask. 

She’s on the phone with Tony, working through a tricky bit, when she feels the prick and tingle. She manages to say goodbye, interrupting a long diatribe about shitty code work.


	30. Chapter 30

On January 23rd, 1992 no one answers her call at the mansion. She catches a cab from the apartment and goes to Stark Industries.

She is once again escorted straight up to Howard’s office and left with a sandwich tray and drinks. She waits for two hours, and is about to go demand to know where Howard is so she can kick his ass for scaring her, when the door opens and Peggy walks in.

Darcy knows that look. She braces herself.

“Oh darling. I’m so sorry.” Peggy says, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. It was a car accident.”

“Tony?”

“No, you still have him.” Peggy comes over and brushes a wrinkled hand over Darcy’s cheek. “Maria was smarter than I ever gave her credit for, I’m afraid I’m slipping. You still have Tony, and I’m afraid he rather needs you too.”

Darcy sits in Howard’s chair. Steve had carried her from the alley, and he’s gone. Howard had carried her from the stoop, and he’s gone.

After Rebecca she’d had JJ.

And now after Howard she’s got Tony. It’s not the same, and she’s not the same. Not without Howard.

“I’ve got something for you.” Peggy says, setting a folder on the desk. “I’m afraid we failed you a bit, and now we’re... We’ll I’ve retired. Howard and Maria are gone. We’ve lost Gabe and Jacques. Falsworth is in a facility upstate.”

Darcy starts shaking.

“Oh, come here, dear girl.” Peggy wraps an arm around her. “I’ve done my best by you these past few years, and so did Howard. You’ve got the apartment building. A dummy company owns it. R Circle, Inc.”

“In this packet you’ve got your bank accounts, your inheritances, identification paperwork for a solid identity, and a few contacts. For as long as I’m able, you can count on me to pull any strings you might need.” Peggy pats her arm. “Are you listening? You are not alone, Darcy.”

Darcy flips open the folder. Right at the top is a birth certificate. Darcy Barnes, born 1974. She shuts the folder again.

“Howard would hate to see you like this. So, you are going to get up, you are going to track down Anthony, and you are going to live, do you hear me?” Peggy stands and knocks on the top of the desk. “The boy gambled the entire company on a roll of the dice. The idiot won, but.... Darcy. He’s hurting just as you are. He needs you.”

Darcy nods and slowly stands.

“There you are. I’ve booked you a flight to LA. An old friend of mine. He’s been instructed to get you all caught up. The key is to stay busy, I’ve always found.”

Darcy nods again, picking up the folder and her purse.

“I’ll take you as far as the airport. I’ll tell you about Sharon. I think you’ll like her.”

Peggy was right about keeping busy on the flight at least. Other than that, Darcy is glad to be out of her company. Peggy had seemed so ready to help Darcy brush Howard and Maria’s deaths under the rug.

To put it in the past. And to just toss in Gabe and Jacques like that. Like a mission report. It’s her way, Peg always kept it together, could always be counted on to be getting what needed to be done, done.

Howard had been good with that trait of Peggy’s, but Darcy isn’t. Peggy can compartmentalize, and sometimes Darcy just can’t. Darcy feels things, and she deals with that.

Peggy’s friend is able to lead her straight to Tony. Or at least, to the party Tony is at. Darcy moves through the house, numb to it all. Numb to the half naked people, numb to the sight of two women doing cocaine on the coffee table, and numb to the man that runs into her and spills beer on her.

She finds him in the living room, sprawled on a couch with a bottle of liquor in hand. A man is yelling at him, saying enough is enough. The man is perhaps the only sober person in the building, because Darcy is not counting herself. Not in this state.

She mostly stumbles down the stairs and comes to a stop in front of the couch. The other man looks at her, then goes back to yelling at Tony.

But Tony is looking at her through bleary eyes. He blinks twice and narrows them. Then he unsteadily climbs to his feet, shaking off his friend’s attempt to help. He’s taller. Definitely more filled out. He tips forward and wraps his arms around her, suddenly sobbing.

His friend keeps them from falling down, and Darcy is crying with him. The friend leads them out of the house and to a waiting car. There are cameras flashing and people yelling. They want to know what Maria would think. What Tony is going to do with SI.

They practically fall into the backseat.

Tony pulls himself together a little in the car. His arm remains clamped around Darcy, his face planted in her shoulder. Darcy holds onto him just as tightly, unable to stop the tears that just keep rolling down her face.

When the friend opens the car door, Tony stumbles out ahead, pulling her along. They’re in a cavernous garage that’s empty except for four other cars, all shining in the fluorescent lights and crazy expensive looking.

Tony weaves as he walks, pulling her ahead so she’s under his arm. He smells. He’s damp with sweat all over. When she looks up into his face, his pupils are tiny pinpricks in his eyes.

He sways on the elevator, but his friend seemed to anticipate it and had clamped a hand on his shoulder as the doors slid shut.

In the apartment on the top floor, Tony stumbles down three steps into a sunken living room, then up them on the other side, towing Darcy along into the bedroom.

It’s a mess. Clothes and plates of half eaten food and magazines are everywhere. He stops and stares at the bed, then fists a hand in the sheets and pulls them off with one hand. The pillows go too, and then he pulls her onto the bare mattress.

Tony hauls her closer and curls around her, like he can block the world out. Darcy shoves her face into his neck and tries to let him.

She wakes up sweaty and feeling hung over even though she hadn’t had anything to drink. She’d woken up crying twice. The second time Tony had woken up too. He’d thrown up into a trash can next to the bed, then wiped her tears away clumsily.

“It’s okay. We’ll make it okay. Take care of each other.” He’d slurred. “Just like Mom said.”

She wakes up to orange colored light. The thick drapes are blocking out most of the sun outside. Darcy pulls carefully away from Tony, but his arms twitch and he grasps her tight.

“I wanna take a shower. I’m not going anywhere.” She promises him, kissing his forehead.

“Shower.” He repeats.

“Yes. I want one.” Darcy taps his bicep. “Which means you need to let go.”

“Mmmmph.”

But he loosens his grip, leaving Darcy to pick her way through the trashed bedroom. She steps over a pile of Chinese take-out containers and a bright red bra.

The attached bathroom is black and gold.

It is aggressively 90s. Darcy stops a few steps inside. There is a pair of teal women’s panties in one of the sinks, a line of white power on the counter, and a used condom on the floor just outside the shower.

She backtracks through the bedroom and goes to the next door. It opens into a bedroom with rumpled bed sheets and a pizza box on the pillows. The bathroom is in better condition, looking untouched by whatever party had been going on.

Darcy mechanically washes her hair with the fancy shampoo and conditioner. There is no razor, so she doesn’t shave. She pulls her sweater and ankle pants back on, then stops and leans her head against the mirror.

She can hear Howard’s voice. _Hey kid_.

“Damn it Howard. You’re supposed to pick me up at Broad and Halls Ferry. You’re supposed to call Rebecca and John so I have all the right things to wear.” Darcy whispers. “Peggy sucks at this.”

She leans back and looks at herself. She looks horrible. Her wet hair hangs in ropes around her face, her eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed. Her skin has no color.

Steve wouldn’t recognize her.

There’s a thump from the room next door and she lets out a gasping breath. Tony.

“Howard, you are such an asshole for going along with Maria on this.” Darcy says, voice hoarse. “Stupid asshole genius. You knew we’d be like this. You knew we’d both be alone.”

Darcy bites her lip and glares at herself. “Pull it together, Rogers. You’ve still got people. You’ve got to go see Falsworth.”

When she goes back out into the living room, she can smell breakfast smells. And coffee. It’s enough to have her approaching Tony’s friend in the kitchen.

“What the hell was he on?” Darcy asks after her first sip.

The man is in fighting shape, and his posture is one she recognizes. He’s military. Hopefully not of the jack booted thug variety.

He’s holding a spatula when he turns. He looks her up and down. “What wasn’t he on?”

Darcy nods, thinking of the line of white powder in his bathroom.

“My turn?” The man asks, flicking off the burner. “Who the hell are you?”

“My sister.” Tony says, wincing as he comes down the steps. “Why did I not fill this in? It’s exhausting.”

“Sister?” The man repeats.

“It’s complicated.” Tony says with a wave of his hand.

The man sighs. “Complicated?”

“If Uncle Sam asks, are you willing to lie?” Tony steals Darcy’s coffee cup. He takes only their agreed upon sip for fortitude, then moves on to getting his own.

The man curses under his breath.

“So, so complicated.” Darcy says, and something that he sees when he’s looking back at her has his frustration fading away. She feels kind of dead. She wonders if he can see that? She feels ancient. Her bones are made of spun glass, her skin is thin paper.

“We’re going to the new house.” Tony says. “Take it easy, get some work done.”

“I have to make a few stops.” She has to track down Dum-Dum, see Falsworth in whatever facility he’s in, find Morita.

Tony’s hand wraps around hers. “I’ll go with you.”

James Rhodes really cares about Tony. It’s obvious when he sees them off at the airport. How he doesn’t really trust her, but he’s trusting Tony. The way he tells her to take care of him.

“We take care of each other.” Darcy tells him, stripped of her ability to lie. She can’t take another JJ.

Tony walks past them, his arms overflowing with snacks from the vending machine. “Road trip! See ya, Rhodey.”

“Only Tony,” James says, watching his friend throw snacks up into the cockpit. “He’s coming off a bender, I don’t know how much he’s got in him, you might have to stop over-“

“James. I taught his ass how to fly.” Darcy interrupts. “We’ve got this.”

“Jim.” He corrects.

“Seey-ya Jim.” Darcy gives him a lazy salute. He watches them leave with a worried look.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm encountering technical issues like crazy here. Is it like others things and happens in threes? If so, hopefully I've had my share with this fic. Important question though, my chapter count reads 29, but thirty chapters are posted? This should be 31? What do you guys see? It all looks good on this end except for the chapter count on my works page. Theories? Advice?

They visit Morita first. He lives in southern California with his wife and their two dogs. It’s a quiet place, out away from the city. Darcy knows him well enough to spot all of his equipment, and isn’t surprised when he walks out of a small copse of trees to meet them with a gun strapped to his hip.

“Anthony.” Morita greets with a nod. 

Tony says nothing, and Morita doesn’t seem surprised. Tony sits on the porch and plays with his pager while Darcy talks to Morita. He manages to get a laugh out of her.

His wife Naomi leaves them at the small table, after cupping Darcy’s face with both hands. She works in the kitchen with the radio on low, kneading dough. Her long gray hair swishes with each punch. 

Naomi and Morita had kept a small apartment in Fresno for years. They’d fit well with the hustle and bustle as they raised their son. Morita had taught the little boy Morse code, and he’d tapped out messages to Morita when he was away, Naomi keeping careful watch. Now Darcy sees a picture of Morita with a young girl in his lap, most likely the granddaughter Darcy had heard about, sitting in front of an electrical telegraph.

It seems they fit just as well out here, in the quiet. Darcy wonders if Naomi still writes. She’d been in the Japanese internment camps during the war, and had been an outspoken civil rights activist ever since. She’d won awards during her years as a journalist, had published several books, and had led protests across the US. Davis Jones had been her intern every summer during high school and undergrad. 

“Sorry we’re clocking out on you, Rogers.” Morita says quietly. Darcy turns back to him. He has a tremor in his right arm, so he raises his glass of sweet tea with the other. “But you know we’re still on your team, right?”

Darcy nods, not able to speak. In the kitchen Naomi drops the dough back to the counter with a solid thump.

“Have you seen Peg?” 

Darcy nods again, more shortly. He sighs tiredly.

“Take it easy on Peg. She’s not what she used to be. None of us are.” He gives her a small smile. “Except for you.”

“No. Not me.” Darcy swallows. “I’m like all of you. I just look different.” 

“If you feel that way, then we’ve all failed.” He takes her hand with his. His skin is soft and wrinkled. His grip is weak. “You’re one of us and over the years you became our heart. You knew that, right?”

“You do realize the heart doesn’t do so well on its own?” Darcy asks him. Organ failure, she thinks. All the rest are failing, and the heart can’t keep going on its own.

Morita laughs. It’s surprisingly hearty sounding. Just like it had been when they were waiting outside a door for the signal to go in and complete the mission and Dum-Dum said something caustic. 

“You said something like that before. And I seem to remember you came through just fine.” Morita squeezes her hand. “Something about remembering you Rogers not having the best record with planes.” 

Darcy doesn’t say that everything was different then. 

“We’re going to be there for you.” Morita says, squeezing her hand. His gaze is intense as he looks at her over the table. In the kitchen, Darcy can see that Naomi has stilled. “You gonna be there for us, Rogers?”

“Always.” Darcy whispers. 

The visit with Dum-Dum is short and mostly quiet. He’s living in a retirement community, but he’s long past being one of the residents that uses the fancy tennis courts and professional grade golf course.

They’re led to a large suite with big windows. It’s done up in bold blues, and Darcy catches the scent of Dum-Dum’s cologne as soon as they step through the door. 

There is a kitchen and a sitting area, but they’d been told he hasn’t been getting out of bed lately after a bout of the flu. 

Dum-Dum is on oxygen and weak. His big fame is shrunken. He smiles tiredly when he sees Darcy and pats her hand. 

He only manages to say one thing. She leans close to hear it.

“Don’t hold a candle to you.” He manages, then nods his head to the boxy TV on top of the dresser.

It’s the Miss America evening gown competition. Darcy laughs, but it hurts her, and Tony sticks his head into room. Dum-Dum smiles, pleased with himself, and then he drifts off to sleep. She writes him a letter to read when he wakes, and spying the pair of thick lensed glasses on the table, she writes in large print. 

Darcy kisses his forehead and Tony takes her away. People cry in these types of places, and they don’t get any second looks. Tony grabs tissues from a box as they pass and shoves them into her hands. 

Falsworth is in a facility in DC. Tony warns her that he’d overheard Howard and Peggy talking about him, and that he’s suffering from dementia. 

At Falsworth’s room, when Darcy falters in the doorway, Tony doesn’t even bother to sit outside. Instead he walks in with her and sits next to her, his chair flipped around backwards so he straddles it.

Falsworth’s handsome face is drooping on one side. His hair is a mess, and his arms are strapped down. 

He looks at them suspiciously. “Darcy?”

“Hey, Falsworth. You gonna take me up?” Darcy asks around the knot in her throat. “I mean, I’m caught up, To-“

“Howard.” Falsworth nods and Tony goes ramrod straight. “We’re getting out of here. I’ve got a bird out back. Just waiting on Dum-Dum.”

“Okay.” Darcy agrees. “Let me fix your hair. You’ve got stuff in it.”

“Is it blood?” He asks resignedly, his body relaxing.

“It’s blood.” Darcy confirms, finding a comb in one of the drawers. “Peg’ll call you sloppy.”

He’s quiet as Darcy combs his hair, working out several knots. She puts it into the style he’d always preferred. 

“There.” Darcy comes around the side of the bed and sees that Falsworth is holding tight to Tony’s hand. 

“Think I’m gonna catch some shut-eye. Gotta stay sharp or you’ll steal my job.” Falsworth says. 

“Alright. We’ll keep watch.”

“Make sure Gabe gets something to eat. Idiot gave me his MRE.” Falsworth tells her. 

Tony is stiff next to her as they walk out of the hospital. Darcy doesn’t say anything as they climb into the car he’d bought and had waiting at the airstrip. 

“Is that the end of your goodbye tour?” Tony asks cuttingly as they pull back into the small airport. Their jet gleams, completely out of place on the dinky runway with the small pleasure crafts and crop dusters. 

“That’s the end. I’ll have to go back, maybe in a week or so. Morita I can call, but Dum-Dum and Falsworth-“

“Are you a masochist?” Tony demands, ripping his sunglasses off as he jerks the car into a parking spot. 

“Just because something hurts doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do. They’re my friends. And they need me.” Darcy says firmly. 

“Is that what my father was? Your friend?” The words twist, his tone is bitter and accusing. It has implications and hurt. Howard has always been the sore spot between them. 

When Tony was young, it was because Darcy got to stay in the labs while Tony was sent away. As Tony grew, it was because Howard picked up her calls where Tony’s went unanswered until he stopped trying, Howard laughed at her jokes where Tony’s earned sharp looks and retorts about taking things seriously. 

It’s Tony’s way to lash out when he’s hurt. There’s a little bit of Howard in that, ironically. Howard had never known when to stand down. Instead of being the rock that holds steady against the current of the river, Howard wasn’t satisfied until he dammed the river and put a vacation home on the shore. Tony gets that from him, but Tony is also hurt and uncertain in a way Darcy never knew Howard to be. 

His words can cut, and he goes for the sharpest ones he can find. 

“Grow up Tony.” Darcy looks into her lap, at her hands. One of Falsworth’s silver hairs is caught in her wedding rings. “He was an alcoholic, he was a flake, and he was arrogant to the point of hurting those around him, but he was-” 

Fuck. Darcy feels her eyes begin to burn. Howard always had a car at Broad and Halls Ferry, if he wasn’t there himself. Howard arranged everything for Darcy – he kept her things over the decades, he handled her finances, he kept her safe and anonymous. When JJ left everything to Howard with a short note, Howard shifted it all into other accounts and made sure Darcy had access.

Howard had brought Maria to her, who despite all her troubles, had always somehow managed to be so steady for both Darcy and Tony. 

Darcy climbs out of the car and starts towards the small air control tower to register their flight plans. Tony follows her, is at her side when she yanks open the door. 

“Goodbye tour?” She asks him, seething. “You’re an asshole, Tony.”

“I know.”

They make the flight to Malibu in silence, sharing a bag of cheese puffs and some chocolates from France. Because Tony.


	32. Chapter 32

In the lab at Malibu they fall back into their routine from when she’d visit him at MIT. AC/DC blasting and all. Guess that’s not just a stage.

The lab is still under construction, and Tony has built a second bot to help. U is technically more advanced than Dum-E, but Dum-E does learn and has had years to adapt.

When he’s delivered Darcy thinks he remembers her. Tony scoffs and calls the bot a failure. But Darcy realizes that he doesn’t destroy it, like his real failures.

Darcy thinks Dum-E’s earnestness has grown on Tony. The bot so badly tries to help. It still clings to its fire extinguisher, and while it’s not just fires that get sprayed, when there is a fire the bot is always quick to respond and Darcy’s glad he’s on hand.

Tony ignores every call from SI. A steady supply of personal assistants are sent down. Some don’t last the day and are fired, others end up in Tony’s bed and Darcy has breakfast with them the next day when they stumble out of Tony’s room.

Darcy really has to hand it to whoever is recruiting them. They’re casting a wide net. There was Amanda who had her M.B.A., and then Therese who had survived eight years following a Chemist around south Asia, and then Pam, who came from the media side of things and had totally hooked Tony up with awesome concert tickets.

And then there were the guys. Tony said Tom reminded him of a Yorkshire terrier. Tony said he was allergic to Rick’s cologne and also that he hates the name Rick. And Jason cried within the hour.

Darcy sucks at tears. She’s already given him her VHS of _Batman Returns_ , and that baby isn’t getting released for another couple months, and he’s working his way through her omelet while she hands him Kleenexes when Tony comes up from the lab and has Dum-E chase him out. (Jason is afraid of robots.)

“That was mean.” Darcy tells him.

“I don’t care.” Tony rubs at his face with a kitchen towel, leaving it streaked with grease. “Besides, I think he hurt U’s feelings. Is that my lunch?”

“No, it was my lunch.” Darcy scrapes the remains of her omelet into the trash.

“He know a robot cooked it?”

“No, he thought I did.”

Tony snorts as U wheels into the room balancing a plate holding a ginormous omelet. “Grab a fork, Tenderheart Bear.”

Darcy dodges Dum-E as Tony kicks out a bar stool for her.

“What is this? What are we eating? U? What did you do?” Tony looks down at her when she tips her head onto his shoulder after stealing the bite off his fork. “We have seriously got to start limiting his TV access.”

Darcy shrugs, poking at her half of the omelet. U likes watching these cooking shows that are on the public access channels. Nothing like what’s coming, all low budget and on during the wee hours with infomercials about scissors that can cut pennies and leather cleaners.

There’s one that’s about being frugal, and the guy clips coupons and cooks with food no one else buys or that he forages. The other is a dry as dirt nutritionist with a lady boner for Jack Lalaine.

“It’s vegetables, Tony. They’re good for us.” Darcy tells him as she crunches through a particularly... cooked piece.

“Vegetables? I’m fine with vegetables. What’s wrong with eggplant Parmesan? Or those little cucumber sandwiches I like? Or-“

Darcy shoves her fork into his mouth.

“Okay, I’m serious now.” Tony says around a full mouth, gesturing with his fork. There’s a brownish cube on his fork. “What is this? Is this a root? Is this from the back yard? Are we eating palm tree nether regions?”

“Just eat Tony. Either he’s trying to kill us to start the age of the robot overlords, or he wants us to live.”

U beeps. They still can’t find a pattern to interpret the beeps. They have to plug the bots into find out what they’re doing. Saying? Thinking?

“Did I tell you he bought chickens and ducks from France?”

“I told you, just hire a person if you don’t want to deal with this stuff.” Darcy reminds him.

“No. No, people have people problems. At least robot problems make sense.” Tony holds his fork in front of her nose. “Does this look like a tentacle to you? Anyway, I put them in the upstairs bathroom.”

The phone rings and Darcy and Tony watch Dum-E roll over to it. The bot sets his fire extinguisher aside, picks up the receiver, beeps, and then hangs up.

“Finally.” Tony mutters. “You’d think I was teaching him rocket science.”

“Wait, the chickens and the ducks are in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, we gotta plug him in later and find out what he wanted with them.” Tony stops to mutter as he cuts a hard green thing that might once have been asparagus in half. “You came from ye olden days, you good with plucking feathers and shit? I think he can kill them with his claw.”

U beeps several times, wheeling forward and back. Dum-E rolls to the fridge, smashes an egg in his claw, and then rolls forward to drip the egg on Tony’s knee. Tony sighs his most long suffering sigh.

“Eggs.” Darcy pats Dum-E’s motor box. “Guess you’re building a coop.”

“Can poultry, no, uh, fowl? Whatever, can they even live out here?”

“I bet Jason would have known.” Darcy sets her fork aside. “Oooh, or Tina. Remember, the biologist?”

“The one with the legs?”

“They all have legs, Tony.”

“Not like those.”

They end up back down in the lab. They mention going out, doing things. But the Malibu house has become their haven.

Darcy revels in how different it is than any place she’s ever stayed before. It’s all modern clean lines, and the ocean is just steps away. It smells different.

She sleeps on thousand thread count sheets and goose feather down, miles and miles away from the lumpy pad she’d curled up on back in New Mexico with Jane. There is no crown molding and ornate balconies or statues, like Stark Mansion. She swims in the afternoons, but there isn’t silty river mud between her toes, and there are no creaking hardwood floors like the Prescott country house.

She teases Tony about the robots, about U’s questionable food, about how the only times they go out is when the cleaning crew is scheduled to be in. But she needs their bubble just as much as Tony does.

They are alone. The PAs come and go, and it’s only Darcy and Tony. If she joins the bots for bad late night TV with red eyes, Tony doesn’t say anything. If she buries herself in code, Tony knows, he understands.

They build a world of afternoon deliveries from the outside world, of bots, good whiskey, tolerable food, acceptance of aching grief, and mutual enabling. A part of Darcy does wonder if it’s healthy, but the majority of her is just fine with doing what needs to be done to survive.

And when she needs it, some connection, something to tether her, the stars shine bright and the sky is immense over the ocean. She has boxes she hasn't unpacked in her rooms, full of her things. And she has Tony.

Working the lab full time with Tony is different than it had been with Howard. Tony is different than Howard. He doesn’t stop. Howard would work for hours, but he would go upstairs to run SI. He would sleep, maybe not at a decent time, but at least a few hours every night.

Darcy stays by Tony’s side, recognizing the grief and hurt that seems to fuel him. Damn Howard for never figuring out a way to show his son that he loved him.

But Tony doesn’t want to hear about his dad from her, and Darcy respects that. Tony has always respected her unspoken boundaries. They talk about Maria sometimes, usually when Tony’s about to crash and she helps him haul himself to the couch. When that happens, she stays with him, holding his hand so he doesn’t wake up alone.

After two months at the beach house, Tony finally agrees to go to the SI offices. He leaves Darcy behind and tells her he has a surprise coming. The surprise is two days of furniture deliveries. Darcy dreams of surprising him upside the head with the ugly ass sculpture that arrived two days in.

He calls her after four days and he sounds all wrong. And drunk or stoned off his ass. She flies out to see him, and the world feels strange around her. A world without Howard, JJ, John, or Rebecca.

A world that is beginning to resemble the one she’d grown up in. People use boxy cell phones. Music she’d put on her iPod is climbing the charts. Bill Clinton is campaigning to be president, Disney is promoting it’s new animated film _Aladdin_ , and on her way into the city Darcy passes a brand spanking new Toyota Tercel, which had been her first car.

She’s driving Tony’s Maserati, and it’s another one of those moments that feels so jarring. She belongs, and yet she doesn’t. The world is new and old. It is only now that she feels inescapably like a stranger in a strange land.

Again her name at the desk gains her entry, but she notices one of the receptionists picks up her phone, watching Darcy go.

She’s met by a tall, forbidding man in Howard’s office. He asks how she got up there, how she knew Howard. He’s angry and accusing and she doesn’t like him.

Tony comes in as the man advances on her. Tony is covered in grease, half drunk, and obviously just up from the labs.

“Darcy.”

“Tony, you know her?” The man asks, obviously displeased.

“She’s cool, Obie.” Tony goes straight to the wet bar. He pours Darcy her favored brand of whiskey. “Darce, should we sign on with Roxxon?”

“No.” Darcy blurts, unable to stop her gut reaction. Maybe she didn’t pay as much attention to the business world as she perhaps should have, but she did remember the ongoing rivalry between Stark Industries and Roxxon. And she'd forgotten about Obadiah Stane. Howard had considered him a good partner, as long as he was kept in line. He'd called him a shark, with no little delight.

“There we go.” Tony makes a grand gesture towards Darcy. “No Roxxon.”

“Tony.” Obie says, his voice full of disappointment. “Your father-“

“Obie. I’m going with no. And now I’m going to go back to Malibu and you can go back to keeping this place running so I can, what was it?” Tony swirls his drink and grins, “Keep playing with my toys? That make us millions?”

Darcy waits to talk to Tony about Obadiah until he’s soberish the next day, back in Malibu.

He laughs. “It’s funny, he doesn’t like you either. I know he’s kind of intense, but he was just doing his job.”

“Tony, don’t you think you should-“

“I’m not Howard.” Tony says, suddenly intense. “Big office, board meetings, briefcase full of paperwork. That’s not me. Sorry, Dad.”

“Tony-“

“Leave it.” So she does.


	33. Chapter 33

Their foray into the outside world has burst their bubble, and something uneasy jitters between them. 

Tony helps her work on her tasers. He sets her up with a pager to go in her pouch that she can kind of ping his pager with. He gives her a credit card and promises to make sure it always works. She kind of doubts that and makes sure she has cash on her. 

They fight over the things she won’t tell him about where she’s from and how all of this had happened to her. 

“How am I supposed to fix it if you won’t give me anything to start with?” He yells.

“I don’t want to change anything!” She yells back. 

“So you’re from the future. That’s a thing that’s real.” He’s thoughtful, staring at her with narrowed eyes. 

Darcy leaves. She flies to see Dum-Dum. She sneaks him greasy hamburgers. She sees Falsworth and does his hair again, since he won’t let any of the nurses or medical staff do it. Like the last time, his mind is lost in the past. 

She plays along, and while it hurts, it also reminds her of the friend Peggy had been to her. One time it had been Peggy waiting under her wing, with open arms and a grin on her face. 

On her way out she has to hide in a janitorial closet when an older but still recognizable Tina Jones passes her in the hallway, headed to her father’s friend’s room. 

Darcy flies to DC to visit Peggy. Peggy lives in the house she’d raised her family in, but she lives alone. Darcy doesn’t ask when Charles passed away, and Peggy doesn’t offer the information.

Instead they have lunch and then tea. Twice Peggy tells her the same story about her granddaughter Maggie, who won a gymnastics competition. 

Like Morita’s granddaughter Meg, Maggie is named Margaret after Peggy. 

Darcy accepts her invitation to stay the night, if only because she is exhausted. Peggy makes her a full English breakfast in the morning and laughs remembering the time Steve tried blood sausage. 

Something in the way that Peggy tells the story, almost proprietorially, makes Darcy think the woman has forgotten who she is. 

Then Peggy offers her more eggs, and looks up with a crinkle of her brow. “Darcy?”

“Yep.” Darcy smiles. “Thanks for breakfast.” 

“Of course, darling.” Peggy smiles, but her eyes are worried.

Darcy calls Morita and tells him about what she’d seen. He acknowledges that it’s been happening more and more. 

“She needs someone with her then. It starts with mild confusion, but then she’ll leave something on the stove and take a nap, or she’ll drive to the store and forget where she is.” Darcy tells him. 

“I’ll talk with Dan and Ellie.” Morita says, voice heavy.

“I saw Tina yesterday. She didn’t see me, don’t worry. How is she? Davis?”

“They’re fine. Darcy, I’ve got to go now.” Morita says. “You’ll call me Saturday?”

“At our normal time.” 

Jim comes to visit them before he leaves on a deployment. Tony is wired. He has a meal catered that’s enough to feed twenty-five, buys a yacht in case Jim wants to take the party out to sea, and gives Jim a custom pager that should work within twenty-five miles of any major city.

“You’ll take care of him?” Jim asks her the next day, after eating her breakfast specialty - toast. Tony is still dead to the world.

“For as long as I can.” Darcy replies. Jim frowns. “It’s-

“Complicated.” He surprises her by giving her a hug. “He’s better. So I’m glad you came.”

Darcy nods. 

He hesitates, his travel bag looped over his shoulder, aviators clipped to the neck of his t-shirt. “Tony is my best friend. Lord knows how it happened.”

“You might have the US Air Force fooled, James Rhodes, but don’t pull that I’m on the straight and narrow bullshit with me.” Darcy tells him. 

“He’s an arrogant asshole with the emotional maturity of a nine year old.” Jim puts a hand on her shoulder, looking her directly in the eye. It’s a big change from interacting with Tony, and it makes it harder for her to shove her emotions down so she can look like a functioning human being. “I know you’re hurting. I don’t know what Howard and Maria were to you, what Tony means to you, but I can tell it’s real.”

Darcy looks away, because if she doesn’t she might start crying. These days it doesn’t take much, although it has been getting better. “Words could never describe what the Starks were to me.”

Jim pulls a card from his pocket. “Tony already has this, but I’m giving it to you too. He told me to put you down as Darcy Barnes. If you need anything, even just to talk, you can call me.”

Darcy nods, but as she looks at him, she’s thinking she doesn’t think she can take losing anyone else. She’s already petrified to leave again. She’s gonna lose people, guaranteed. And Jim is getting deployed.

He claps a hand on her shoulder, and then he’s gone. 

Darcy heads down to the lab, needing work. Something to keep her mind busy. 

Tony comes straight to the lab when he wakes. She can tell because he’s still sleep rumpled and attached to his coffee mug. He works for thirty-six hours straight. He doesn’t mention their fight, or Jim’s absence, and neither does Darcy.

He ignores her for three days when she attempts to bring it up a few weeks later, so she goes to see Peggy again. 

The visit turns into a week long trip into Canada. She’s partnered with Maggie Carter, Peggy’s award winning gymnast granddaughter turned apparent SHIELD operative that isn’t opposed to taking unsanctioned assignments from her grandmother.

They’re tasked with investigating a government financed human experimentation facility that had recently been destroyed. Peggy apparently has maintained some contacts within SHIELD, and whatever this is, there are a lot of questions. Darcy worries about what might be real, and what might be dementia. But Peggy is agitated and worked up, and when she asks Darcy to go, there is something heavy in her eyes. 

“You know you only have to ask, Peg.” Darcy tells her. 

Darcy gets to fly a new prototype tentatively named a Quinjet. 

It’s supposed to be near-perfect. Darcy has a few words for whoever decided that, not that she’ll ever get to say them. The thing is buggy as hell, and the weather turns to shit. 

Maggie Carter is a jarring mix of her grandparents. She has Charles’ curly brown hair, face, and green eyes. But her build, and her expressions are clearly Peggy. She also has Peggy’s demeanor as she readies herself for the mission. Cool competence, ease that comes from the self-assurance that practically oozes from her pores. 

Despite the various malfunctions of the plane, Maggie seems to trust Darcy implicitly. She notices Darcy checking on her. 

“Gran said you’re the best pilot she’s seen since Falsworth.” Maggie says, and her measuring look is all Peggy. “Gran says my shooting is ‘adequate’, and I’ve been the best in my class for three years running.”

“I once landed a foreign plane in a blizzard with a bomb in my lap, and your Gran said it was sloppy.” 

Maggie grins and unzips a pocket on her jumpsuit. She holds out a green and orange can. “RAWR? They’re delicious.”

Darcy shrugs and takes the can, and Maggie pulls out another. 

Outside the windshield the storm clouds roll below. For now Darcy has managed to put the jet above them. She opens the can and takes a sip, then promptly sprays it all over the dash.

That will have to do for getting back at the fucked in the head tester. 

“I am never trusting you again.” Darcy says, wiping her mouth. She’s tempted to try to wipe her tongue off. 

“Well, it’s kind of an acquired taste, but then it’s the best.” Maggie offers, looking at the drink covered control panel with no small amount of amusement. “Like coffee.”

Darcy gasps. “You shut your whore mouth, Carter.” 

“Does Gran know you talk like that?”

“Remember my sloppy landing?” Darcy asks, giving in and trying to wipe the taste off her tongue with her fingers. Maggie nods. “I told her to shove it up her ass.”

Darcy realizes just then that Peggy is the only one she never took back off of probation. It had all been a long running joke, but Darcy would bet that Peggy had noticed. Maybe there was only so much you could do once someone had kissed your husband, wartime or no.

Their joking camaraderie comes to an end once they reach the facility. Whoever had destroyed it hadn’t been fucking around, but there’s still evidence left behind.

Ruble with iron hand restraints bolted to the wall. Claw marks dug deep into cement floors by repetition, not strength. Terrifying looking tanks with restraint chains inside.

They diligently photograph everything. There are no records left behind, and no computers. Someone had already been and gone, cleaning the place up as best they could. Darcy finds an electric shock set up hooked up to a metal bed frame. 

It’s been a solemn three hours when Darcy hears a gunshot. She ducks down, thinking that she might not have been seen, but then a bullet ricochets off a piece of cement near her head and she has to think fast.

She’s not gonna say it was pretty, but she manages to make her way to where Maggie is holed up. Together they make a break for the jet. Tony’s modified tasers kick ass and take names. 

And if Maggie is an adequate shooter, Darcy does not want to meet the person that Peggy thinks is ‘good’ or Thor-forbid, ‘excellent’. 

Maggie pitches forward in front of Darcy, about thirty feet from the jet. Red blood gushes out of her leg. Darcy rips off one of her arm bands and shoves it down Maggie’s collar, then throws a handful of shock BBs. They emit a field of electric shocks, which are attracted to metal. Like guns.

“Come on. Up, Carter.” Darcy ducks under Maggie’s arm, wrenching her to her feet. She feels something hit her arm, but ignores it as they crouch run into the back of the quinjet. 

Darcy dumps Maggie into the seat closest to the medical set up and runs for the cockpit. She deploys the thrusters first off, just to stir up a lot of dust. 

Take off is shaky as fuck. Tony would have that fixed in an hour. Darcy looks down at her arm and sees the blood.

Curiously, it hurts worse than the time she’d been shot in the stomach. But Morita had said she was going into shock then, so there’s that. Arm wounds must not be good enough for shock. Assholes.

Someone shoots a tracking missile at them, but at least that part of the jet works fine, and Darcy drops their own hot missile to throw it off.

She puts them up high enough to fuck with anyone’s radar, and to be far, far out anyone’s normal fly zone, then puts them on autopilot and goes back to check on Maggie.

“Let me help.” She says, seeing that Maggie has already started dressing the wound. Blood is smeared on Maggie’s cheek and into her short cap of brown curls. “Oh man, you touched your face and your hair with bloody hands. Amateur mistake, Carter.”

“I was supposed to be the one keeping you alive.” Maggie says as Darcy wraps the cleaned wound. She looks upset with herself.

“I’m pretty sure Peggy sends me out with her granddaughter, I’m the one supposed to be keeping someone alive.” Darcy tells her flippantly. She wonders how old Maggie is, and how much pressure Peggy is putting on her. She’s just a kid.

Maggie shakes her head. “No. You’re special.” 

“So are you.” Darcy tells the woman, standing up. “I mean, how many people on this earth can actually stomach that acid you called a drink? And insult coffee in front of me and live to tell the tale?”

“We are legion. Well, when it comes to RAWR. I don’t know about the coffee thing.”

“Not so legion.” 

They return the jet to the bumfuck hangar, and Darcy leaves her camera and other borrowed equipment with Maggie. Peggy has a car waiting for Darcy, so she wraps her arm and gets with Peggy’s program and makes herself scarce. 

Tony’s furious when she returns with a bullet hole in her arm.

“It’s not a bullet hole, I was grazed, Tony. I’ve been shot before, I know the damn difference.” Darcy tells him, but he’s beyond reach. She knows it has to do with their fight, with her poking at old wounds.

He patches her up, berating her for taking stupid chances.

He looks shattered when she feels the pull. She wants to stay with him, to take care of him like she promised. To let him take care of her. 

And she feels gut-wrenching panic, because there was so much she should have said to him and now she might be too late.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. Sorry for the wait, I didn't want to post just a couple chapters and leave you hanging. So I left you hanging this week? Trust me, this was better.

The alley is suspiciously neat. The breath becomes stuck in her chest, an icy fist of fear gripping her tight. With shaking hands she fumbles for the pouch. Lipstick red. She almost drops the pager, but manages to ping Tony. She does it three times, but it doesn’t make her feel better.

Her face is tingling, and she tries to make herself take deeper, slower breaths before she begins moving towards the mouth of the alley. It’s hot, and despite the cleaner look, the garbage still smells ripe.

The neighborhood has made a comeback. Shops are open, restaurants are quaint, and windows have flower boxes. The bank, she can see it. It’s a coffee shop, with little tables out front.

There are no pay phones. There is no newspaper stand. Darcy tries to date the cars, but she’d never had enough money to care much before she’d gotten zapped out of Jane’s lab. The cars are more bulbous. Swooping lines, as compared to the boxier models of the early nineties.

More deep breaths. She can smell the salt and bread from the pretzel cart. It doesn’t help though. She’s panicking. There is no Howard here, there never will be again. And she’d let Tony down.

She’d seen those pictures of him coming back to the States. He’d been tortured. There had been rumors of involuntary body modification. How could she have left without warning him? Preparing him? For what? To not change some future she may never see again?

Everything is jarringly familiar to her. It makes her sick with anxiety, and she wants to scream. Beg someone to tell her what year it is. She recognizes the billboards from her childhood. People everywhere walk while talking on cell phones. The music that plays on outdoor speakers are songs that she already knows.

There’s a busy café on the corner. Sandwiches. Salads. Business types hurrying around on their lunch breaks. A flat screen television on the wall shows the stocks, and next to that, the date. June 15th, 2004.

She leans against a light pole until a police officer asks her if she’s alright. He offers to call someone, or get her a bottle of water. Darcy waves him off and starts walking.

She’s alive somewhere in this time. She’s nine years old. She’s probably sitting in Mrs. Kreitmeyer’s class, smarting off and earning herself time in the time-out box, which she always pretended was a rocket.

Or she could be sitting on a lunch table bench eating a Lunchable and drinking a Capri Sun. She's asking too many questions and annoying her teachers, the bus driver, and most of all her mother.

It is physically hard for her to not curl up in a ball on the sidewalk. The cars seem too fast and horns are too loud. There are too many lights around her.

She finally sees a payphone and calls SI. She tells them it’s Darcy Lewis.

“Who?” The man asks, and Darcy's sweaty hand tightens around the plastic receiver. “I’m sorry, I don’t see an appointment for you.”

She knows she has fucking Stane to blame for this. It doesn't help much. Stark Industries had been Howard's, and it had been there for her. It's another one of her touchstones gone. Another place that she had belonged that has been made foreign and strange to her by the passing of time. It's the apartment she'd shared with Steve housing a different family and the door slammed in her face. It's the yard behind the old brownstone where John had set Darcy and Rebecca on blankets in shade of trees that are now gone. It's the phone numbers she has memorized that won't connect to the right people anymore.

It's the names on the tip of her tongue, of the people who are gone.

She somehow manages to get to the apartment. Her key still works.

Tony finds her twisted in the bed sheets ten hours later. He drags her into the shower fully clothed, ignoring her protests. He shampoos her hair with no finesse. He ignores her insistence that conditioner is necessary.

After, he pushes her into one of the dining room chairs. “Eat.”

Her plate holds two snickers, a pile of peanuts, and a bag of Doritos. He also brings her a glass of whiskey.

She can’t settle, not even when he brings her back to Malibu. She’s terrified of the next time she leaves.

Tony is on edge with her. He does his best, but he’s not good with emotions. It's okay, because she and Tony speak the same language when they're fucked up. There is comfort in his snark as he works in the labs with her, and when she reaches for a drink he's right there with her. Darcy can't help but wonder if Maria somehow saw this kinship in them, way back then. That they would be able to wade through the other's pain, dodge the attacks, weather the barbs, and somehow cling to the other so that what would be pure and simple self destructive _pain_ , and _hurt_ , and being _so fucking lost_ \- instead it's maybe clutching at functioning, it's maybe crawling, but it's fighting, and surviving.

One night, after they’ve gone forty hours without sleep and Darcy hasn’t once tried to get him to stop, he carries her over to the couch and collapses with her.

“I just need it to stop.” She whispers when the music shuts off. "I _can't_ keeping doing this. I can't - Tony, something bad happens to you.”

“Look-“ He stops, whatever he’d been about to say lost as he takes in what she just said. “Bad.”

“If I tell you, it won’t happen.”

“Do I die?”

“No.” She can't bring herself to care what it says about her, that she'd change it in a heartbeat if she knew Tony would get killed.

“Am I damaged beyond repair? I mean, I’m fine with going into prosthetics. Robot legs might be cool, right?”

“Tony.” Darcy closes her eyes.

“I come out the other side, right?”

“You’re amazing.” Darcy tells him honestly. Because it’s true. She had been aware of Tony Stark. A billionaire scientist? It was super refreshing to watch a scientist do and say what they wanted. And he’d been hilarious. Plus reversing the company’s position on bombs? Clean energy instead? Darcy had been cheering in her seat.

Iron Man? Fuck. Yeah.

“My hero.” She says, lips twitching a little.

“Alright. Alright.” Tony nods, then he shrugs his shoulders. “Something bad happens to me, I kick ass. That’s all I really need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He turns to face her, his head flopping to the side. The lab is dark and quiet except for the sound of Dum-E and U’s motors. “The lab accident which shall not be spoken of. Would you stop that from happening?”

Darcy feels a little like he kicked her in the stomach. And she does think of the pain. The grief that lurks inside her, ready to well up at the strangest times, when she hears a song she’d danced to with Steve, when she hears a laugh like Rebecca’s out on the street. When she sees a sail boat on the horizon.

She shakes her head silently. She could never take it back. Stop herself from sharing that short time with Steve. From knowing all of the people that she’d known, that had pieces of her heart.

“Fate. If you believe in that. I don’t, but.” Tony shrugs again. “It’s my shitty thing right? You know how I hate it when people take my things.”

Darcy is woken by a woman’s voice the next day. She's curled into the couch, and her mouth is as dry as the Sahara. Why, whiskey? The woman berates Tony, tells him he _will_ be present at the board meeting that day, and he _will_ be showered. And that he needs to eat something.

Darcy peeks her head over the back of the couch and watches Pepper Potts walk away. She’s dressed much like she had been the day Darcy met her. Professional as fuck, as Darcy had told Jane later. It was the first and only time Darcy had been embarrassed by her Iron Man pajamas.

Tony is rubbing the back of his neck when he looks at her.

“I like her.” Darcy says simply.

Tony attends his board meeting, and Darcy goes to visit Peggy. She’s the only one left. Peggy lives at home, but there’s an aide. Peggy seems active, and waves away what she describes as annoying issues with her memory.

Darcy meets Tony back at the mansion. It’s dusty and smells stale, in a way it never had before. Darcy can’t stand it, and spends days opening windows and airing it out.

Though the woman doesn’t know it, Darcy is the bane of Pepper Potts’ existence, because Tony hardly leaves her side.

Obadiah is pushing for something, Tony is resisting in his own way, which means not showing up and never committing, and Pepper is displeased.

And while Tony won’t admit it to Darcy or himself, he cares what Pepper thinks of him. He wants Pepper to be impressed. He just seems to think that would mean working nine to five, running the company, and courting the board.

Darcy isn’t sure how the two of them worked things out so that they were together, but she knows they did. She tries to tell Tony to just be himself, and that earns her the most scathing look she’s received since he was a smart ass twelve year old.

It gets smoothed over because Jim is coming back on leave. He’s a damn Colonel now. Tony is, of course, throwing a party.

Jim is apparently more receptive to Tony’s parties when he’s returning from deployments rather than embarking on them. Tony doesn’t tell Jim that Darcy is present, and lists off increasingly extravagant and frankly, some depraved components of the party. Jim greets every one with some variation of ‘uh-huh.’

Darcy is glad to see the Malibu house again. She’s glad to see her room. It’s like she’s connecting the steps of her life, from the mansion to her new life with Tony. Where Brooklyn had felt like a different world, she’s now constantly reminded that she’s off track in her own world. Quickly encroaching on her own time. And the Malibu house, Tony, is her safe place.

When Jim walks into the Malibu house, there is food, there are streamers and confetti. There is a yacht, and the music is loud enough to vibrate drinks off the coffee table.

But there are no strippers. And no supermodels.

“Disappointed?” Tony asks, walking a drink over to him.

“You look like you’ve been... eating.” Jim says slowly. “You look good.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Darcy walks out of the kitchen. “You flatter me.”

Jim does a double take. “Girl, when you say complicated you mean-“

“Complicated got eaten by a space cat and hacked up into a cluster fuck with turbo boosters.” Darcy smiles. “But I thought we were here to party?”

In public Darcy stays on Jim’s arm, and Tony walks well ahead, keeping the focus of the press on him. They spend four days together out on the coast, two on the yacht. They eat meals that cost more than Darcy’s replacement retainers, all six of them combined.

Darcy gets to witness Jim leading a sexy times friend out of the yacht’s living room to a boat waiting outside, while she loudly crunches her cereal during her morning cartoons.

Just as he comes back inside, a blonde woman stumbles out of Tony’s room, still tying her sarong, with make-up smeared under her eyes. Darcy is almost sad she’s not going to get to talk to this one, she has a massive coral reef tattoo on her left arm. That's gotta have a cool story behind it.

“Yer gonna need a bigger boat, Jim.” Darcy says, still crunching.

“Just in time!” Jim greets the woman, while giving Darcy a quelling look and Darcy smiles happily, thinking how nice it is that people get her pop culture references now. “Tony arranged for a private speed boat to take you back to your hotel.”

Jim has to leave them an hour later, to go be a grown up, he says.

“I resent that!” Darcy is now sitting next to Tony and eating her cereal dry.

“Yeah. We’re grown-ups.” Tony doesn’t look away from _Ren & Stimpy_. “Not our fault we got a better gig than you.”

“Green isn’t a good color for you, Jim.”

“Both figuratively, jealousy is ugly, and literally, you should stick to the blue family.” Tony points his spoon at Jim.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tony did you talk to her yet?”

“Talk to her? About what? There’s nothing to talk to her about.” Tony chokes on his Lucky Charms, leaning forward and spluttering even as he glares at Jim. “And you’re going to be late. You hate to be late.”

“I told you if you didn’t bring it up yourself I would before I left.” Jim pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on. Darcy gives him a thumbs up, because he’s pulling those off for sure. He winks and Tony looks between them before flipping Jim off. “Tony drunk dialed Pepper two nights ago. It was not pretty. I’ll see you two adults later.”

“We’ll show you adult!’ Darcy calls after him before turning on Tony. “You drunk dialed Pepper Potts?”

They bicker about how to fix it for the day it takes the yacht to reach Tony’s port. Darcy thinks he should talk to Pepper. Tony thinks that idea is insane and stupid, and that the obvious course of action is to give Pepper a raise and never speak of any of it again.

When Darcy isn’t exactly on board with that plan, Tony decides he has something important to do in LA. He calls for his helicopter for her and takes off in his red Lamborghini. She’s not surprised. He hates going to see Peggy.

Peggy usually compares him to his father. And calls things like she sees them, so if she has a newspaper handy she’ll point to a picture of Tony drunk at a gala and call him a spoiled child.

So his little tantrum serves two points. It ends the discussion about Pepper, and it gets him out of going with Darcy to check in with Peg. Darcy flies to the airstrip and steals his jet to fly home to the New York apartment. This plane has a crew, a gaudy lounge, a bedroom, and stripper poles. Classy.

Using a clam shell phone for the first time in her life, Darcy calls Tony and has him talk to the crew so they’ll fly her. He's an ass, but he picks up.


	35. Chapter 35

In New York, Darcy calls Peggy’s Albany house. The answering machine invites the caller to put in a code. Darcy bites her lip.

The old Peggy wouldn’t have forgotten her. She would have included a code Darcy would know. The new Peggy? The woman’s memory had been iffy, her mind slippery at times. Other times it had still been razor sharp.

The code word they’d used in the fifties is too long. Names of any of their shared acquaintances would be too obvious. Darcy hums to herself in a moment of realization, then types in the street number of her apartment building. Peggy had helped to secure that place for Darcy, to give Darcy a place that would always be safe.

The code works. Darcy feels a rush of affection and admiration for Peggy.

The message relays that Peggy has traveled to her London house, and gives a number she can be reached at. Darcy calls and they talk for almost two hours, Peggy fading for a bit in the middle. Like she had with Falsworth, Darcy rolls with it, and Peggy comes back out again.

A few days later Darcy somehow gets roped in to catching a cab out to Peggy’s house to roost a raccoon out. A window had broken in a storm, and one of Peggy’s less valiant offspring had discovered the intruder.

Peggy didn’t trust a service in her house, and she said her less embarrassing relations are out of the state currently.

Darcy takes a picture of herself in Peggy’s son’s ancient hockey gear with the trapped raccoon and sends it to Jim, asking him if that’s adult enough for him. Bitch.

Of course, when she’d asked the cabbie for a teensy bit of assistance, he’d left.

She texts Tony to see if he’s back in New York yet because she needs a ride, and gives him the address. Going by Tony’s text, he’s obviously not in an improved mood but he is back on the east coast and headed her way.

The job she does closing up the broken window is not half bad, but she does slice the shit out of her arm. She wraps it in a dish towel and goes to wait outside. Animal control meets her at the end of the drive and tells her she shouldn't have trapped the animal herself. Darcy nods along and agrees that she'll contact them if it ever happens again.

Tony's white Bugatti streaks into the drive an hour and a half later. Music spills out of the low-slung car when he leans across the passenger seat to open her door. He says nothing in greeting, and pulls out tires squealing, which isn’t unusual. Darcy grips the door handle as he takes a curve, but doesn’t comment.

She rides in jets with him.

But then his hand flashes over and yanks at her arm. Her blood coats his fingers, a horn blows, and the world flips over.

Or the car does. It’s more likely that the car does.

She and Tony are not as good at flying cars as they are at flying jets.

“Tony?” Darcy asks when they stop. The car is making settling noses around them. There’s a tinny ringing sound in her ears.

It takes her two tries to get her seat belt undone. Tony’s hand is on her arm, tugging on her. She crawls over the center armrest. It’s hard, the roof has been crushed in. There’s more room on his side of the car.

“Tony?” Darcy holds his chin in her hand. His nose is bleeding, his lip is split, and there’s a big cut on his head. But head wounds bleed a lot. She’s more worried about the massive cut across his chest. “You okay?”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.” Darcy repeats with a stupid smile. Then she frowns. “Are you high? Tony, are you fucking high?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah fuck.” She slaps his shoulder. Hard. “Never again. Never again, Tony!

“Hey, c’mon. I’m dying here.” His eyes widen. “You’re not dying, are you?”

“Neither of us are dying. From the future, remember? Your dumbass lives through this.” Darcy reaches up to wipe her tears away, but her hand comes away red. She realizes its blood dripping off her face. “Fucking promise me to never, ever do this again. Fucking promise me, right now. A driver. You’re getting a driver. Promise.”

His eyes move over her face and he grimaces. “Promise. Now let’s get out of this tin can before it decides to explode in a ball of flames.”

Darcy tries the door handle but it won’t open, so she goes to kick at it the way Jacques taught her. “Tony? Keep talking to me. You’re not dying.”

Tony fights with the med team that arrives, but lets them be loaded into the ambulance when the press starts pulling up in vans.

Mid-transit they’re shifted to another ambulance.

“You’re taking us to SI, right?” Tony demands. “Someone give me my phone.”

“We’re taking you to Stark Industries.” A woman says, climbing up into the new ambulance and pulling the doors shut behind her. She knocks twice on the roof and they begin to roll forward.

Darcy frowns up at her, feeling dizzy. But she’s afraid to relax against the gurney.

The woman puts a hand on Darcy’s chest and leans over her. Green eyes, brown curls. Maggie Carter bends to speak lowly right next to Darcy’s ear. “We’ve got you Rogers.”

“What? What’s happening?” Tony tries to push himself up into a sitting position. The medic holds him down easily.

The medic sees her looking and pulls his hospital jacket open, revealing his bullet proof vest, and his name sewn across the breast. _Jones_. He nods at Darcy.

Darcy looks over at the other medic. It’s an Asian woman with black hair pulled back into a pony tail. Instead of working on Tony, she’s got a lap top open and a headset on. Her eyes are focused on the screen. Darcy narrows her eyes, because this one doesn’t look like she should be out of high school yet.

“Meg Morita. Best hacker I know.” Maggie says. “We’ll get you to Stark Industries, she’ll keep you off the news.”

Darcy swallows and nods. “Tony, it’s okay.”


	36. Chapter 36

“Hey.”

“Mmmph.” Tony pulls the sensor stuck to his temple off.

“Quick. You’re so not allowed to have this.” Darcy hands him a to-go cup of coffee. She’d been in and out, but Tony had needed x-rays on his arms and his head.

He accepts it and chugs it, wincing at the burn, but powering through like a champ. Darcy takes it back as the door opens, leaning back in her seat with her hands curled around the cup.

The attending doctor doesn’t give them a second look, but Doctor Cho looks between them suspiciously. Darcy likes the woman. They do a check, talk about concussion safety.

Tony mostly ignores them, but tells them Pepper will be by to see them later.

“Pepper is on her way.” Darcy says when they leave. “I’ll probably head back to the apartment. Talk to our new friends.”

“I don’t do friends. I have Rhodey. That’s it.”

Darcy raises her brows.

“You’re my sister. Mom said.” Tony looks away. He’s got one of his phone prototypes in his hand, the back panel open. “And Pep is Pep.”

“Fine. I’ll go talk to my new friends.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “Do you remember your promise?”

Tony rolls his jaw, still not looking at her. Darcy sighs and starts to talk, but he turns, his eyes intense. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tony. Just a few bumps. You got the worst of it.”

His eyes flick over her face, then down her body. He swallows hard.

“Tony.” Darcy leaves her chair and climbs onto the bed next to him. “I’m fine. What you need to worry about is Pepper. I heard her on the phone with the doctor. She sounded pissed.”

Tony shrugs a shoulder and reaches for his coffee again. Darcy grabs for the remote and turns on the television. It’s turned to the news, and an aerial shot of Tony’s wrecked Bugatti is being shown. Darcy changes the channel to the Food Network. Paula Deen promises to tell them the secret after the commercial.

“I bet the secret is butter.” Darcy drops the remote into her lap.

You know what I was thinking?" Tony gingerly drapes his arm around her shoulder and Darcy leans into his side and makes a questioning noise. "You said you knew that I lived through the wreck, but that would mean that you always went back in time. Like a loop, which would mean-"

Darcy presses her hand against his lips without looking up. "Do you think I haven't thought about all of that? You said you don't believe in fate, but I do. How could I not? I fly airplanes, I held JJ when he was a baby, if I didn't trust something, some part of this, I'd be afraid to do anything. So other than on bad days, I believe I was supposed to be here. Right? Here with you."

"If anyone rates time travel in order to get a sister, it's me. I am pretty-"

Darcy covers his mouth again. "So yeah. I'm one of those people believing in something out there in the universe, pulling the strings. And so I don't let myself worry about shit I can't control, you know disturbing the butterfly who flaps it's wings and on the other side of the world- Fuck, you know? I'm here. And I try really hard to believe it's because I'm supposed to be here."

“You still don’t regret getting married?” Tony leans his chin on top of her head, arms tightening around her like an apology for crossing one of the invisible lines they've drawn around their emotional fault lines. “Even though he left you? You wouldn’t trade it for not having him to lose?”

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” Darcy says, not looking away from the Pepsi Blue commercial. “Not any of it or them. It hurts so bad now that I’ve lost them, but the good times are worth it. More than worth it. And he- He is the light of my life. Even now that he’s gone, he’s still making it so I can see my way.”

“Being with him, even for such a short period of time, changed me forever. For the better. And having had that-“ Darcy lets out a shaky breath, “that kind of love, it makes you feel like you can do anything. So if you think you could have that with Pepper,”

Tony makes a dismissive noise in his throat.

“Then don’t screw it up. Don’t throw it away because you’re afraid.”

Darcy straightens at the sound of yelling. She recognizes that voice. Obadiah Stane.

“Gotta go.”

“I’ll come see you when they let me out of here.” Tony catches her hand. "You're okay, right?"

“And when Pep lets you out of her sight.” Darcy teases, dropping a kiss on his head. "And if I need you, I'll call."

Darcy slips down the hall, going in the opposite direction of Stane. Maggie falls into step next to her.

“Give me a ride?” Darcy asks with a smile.

“That can be arranged. Where do you need to go?”

“Someplace with burgers.” Darcy wiggles her fingers at her sides and tries to shake off the tentative state talking about Steve with Tony had left her in. “Where are the others?”

“Had to report back to their stations.” Maggie answers as they step onto the elevator. “I don’t have much longer either.”

“No chat over burgers then?”

“I’m afraid not.” Maggie has shed her ambulance gear. Now she wears a tactical suit, a holster under arm and on her thigh.

They step out of the elevator into a basement garage.

“Your car.” Maggie nods to a navy sedan. “Chris will take you anywhere you want to go. And keep anything he sees to himself.”

Darcy turns to thank her, but Maggie is holding out a slip of paper.

“This is a private line to me. Untraceable. I’ll make sure it always works. You need anything, you only need to call.”

“It goes both ways.” Darcy tells her. “Thanks for this.”

“No need for thanks.” Maggie says, and jogs away with a salute.

“No need for saluting. Ever.” Darcy calls after her. “Seriously!”

She has Chris drive her downtown, then back uptown, watching for a tail. Then she has him drop her at Rockefeller Center. She takes a path through the buildings that Howard had shown her, using access stairs and enclosed back allies, until she comes out on the other side.

Then she walks down to the apartment. She lets herself in and Jim turns from where he’s standing near the windows, his cell phone at his ear. “She’s here. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, Tony. Bye, Tony.”

“Jim! Tell me you’re here to take me for greasy diner burgers.” Darcy says.

“That raccoon get out?” He asks as he crosses the room.

“Ah, no. I-“

Jim hugs her. “I know you were in the car. Tony told me, how do you think I found this place?”

“Was Pepper there yet? Did they have a big romantic kiss after she punched him in the face?”

“Yes and no. Tony’s insisting he was alone, even while Pepper’s working to force non-disclosure agreements on the people saying there was a woman there.” Jim steps back. “And then he motions me over and privately sends me after you, handing off the key and address to this place. So no, no romantic kiss, but we did get pretty close to the punching.”

“I think they’re going to come together. The punching and the kissing.” Darcy tells him honestly. Then she pats his arm because he seems a little strung out. “Don’t worry, they’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not so sure.” Jim says, but puts an arm around her shoulders. “So, greasy burgers.”

Jim takes her out to a place he knows. In Miami. It’s probably good for them to get out of New York and away from the press. Jim promises to help her make sure Tony follows through on hiring a driver.

Pepper is disappointed with a capital D with Tony. And Obadiah had used Tony’s shitastic state to his advantage and pushed through some kind of board vote.

So Tony is in pain, pretending not to care that Pepper is back to treating him like his full-on playboy self, acting like his full-on playboy self to prove that he doesn’t care, and ignoring that Obadiah had crossed some lines in his ongoing epic battle to resist a fate chained to the big desk in SI.

Darcy does what she can to help him. She works in the labs, keys in new code for the artificial intelligence system that has gone live. Jarvis. Seriously, Tony? She's long past thinking Howard hired Jarvis for his name, but she still feels a bit like she's an actor in a movie, all _home, James._

She helps weld Dum-E’s new and improved arm on. The bot gets over-excited and during his first test run he sprays Tony, Darcy and U with fire retardant foam.

Darcy mostly ignores the women that sometimes pass through. These ones are for flash and show, and if they have other qualities they aren’t showing them when leaving in the mornings.

Darcy has to tackle him when he doesn’t notice one of his projects over heating, or Jarvis' insistent warnings. They hit the floor hard, and by then he’s more with the program and together they scramble back towards a reinforced wall.

With ringing ears, Darcy pulls her phone out of her pocket and flips it open to check the time. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“It’s fine.” Tony brushes smoldering bits of ash off his arm. “I was-“

“It’s Maria’s birthday today.” Darcy tells him, and his eyes dart towards her, then away again. “Tony. You can’t keep burying your feelings, okay?”

“Uh, yes I can.” Tony pushes to his feet and kicks the twisted remains of a chair away as the overhead sprinklers come on. “It is the time honored way of the Starks, or didn’t you know?”

Darcy stands as Dum-E rolls past, headed for another fire extinguisher.

“Work,” Tony says, turning in a circle, then pointing once he locates a metal cabinet. “And booze.”

“Oh, get the fuck out with that.” Darcy tells him, starting across the room to take away the bottle of whiskey he’s unearthed.

“Tony! For fuck’s sake!” It’s Happy. The driver and or security guy, who is actually an old friend of Tony’s. Darcy is a fan of him, how he doesn’t take Tony’s shit. And she understands how this looks, Tony standing in the middle of his destroyed lab chugging f  
from a bottle of whiskey.

But no.

She turns on her heel, between Tony and Happy. “Leave!”

Happy slows, looking at her in surprise. “Tony, who is this? I don’t have any visitors signed in.”

“Happy, I’m asking you to leave. Page nine of your contract refers to a confidentiality clause, that was worded really strangely? Hi. I’m clause thirty-three.”

“It’s all good, Hap.” Tony wraps an arm around Darcy from behind, and bends to rest his forehead on her shoulder, making his voice slightly muffled. “Remember, not a word to anyone about thirty-three, here.”

“Except for Rhodes.” Darcy adds, because she can tell Happy is torn. He gives her a slow nod, and picks his way back towards the door. He’s already got his phone out.

Once he’s gone, Darcy turns in Tony’s arms. He makes noises of protest, but doesn’t fight her on it. And he sinks into the hug.

“I know it’s hard to talk about your parents. But there is one thing that I know, that you should know. They both knew it too.” He tenses, but doesn’t pull away. “You got the best parts of them, Tony.”

Darcy tightens her grip, because now he does try to turn away.

“You got your mother’s caring, soft heart, and your father’s fierce loyalty. You have the same unshakable self-confidence that gave your father strength, and you have your mother’s sensitivity that made her into the beacon this family needed.” Darcy swallows past the knot in her throat. “I see all of that in you, Tony. So remember that, okay?”

“If I agree will you let me go?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay okay, or just-“

“Darcy.”

“Fine.” Darcy lets him go. Her lips curve when he doesn’t step back. “Tony, you know I love you, right?”

“Okay, that’s too much. Drink.” Tony shoves the whiskey bottle between their bodies. “How I ended up with you and Rhodey-“

“It’s cause you crave human contact. You love cuddles.” Darcy takes a swig of the whiskey, smirking to herself as he leaves one arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Pepper does too. I can tell.”

Tony drops his head back and groans.

“What? I ship it.”

“I know you ship it I just- NO! No, Dum-E-“

Darcy ducks and runs. Tony looks at her with such a look of betrayal that she almost feels bad enough not to laugh at his foam covered self. But it’s dripping from his goatee like a Santa beard. “What? I had to save the alcohol.”

They move to another section of the lab, saved from damage by the blast wall Darcy had suggested.

Tony comes back from his shower with wet hair and a new idea. Darcy tries to block his access to his work table, but he just picks her up and sets her on a filing cabinet. Shrugging, she grabs a handful of screws and bolts.

“Tony. Tony. Tony. Tony.” Darcy throws a bolt with each repetition of his name, and he ignores them pinging off of the side of his face. “Thai food or pizza. Tony. Tony. To- Oh shit! Tony, I don’t want to go!”

Tony swings around in his chair, throwing off his magnifying glasses. Darcy reaches for him, because she's not strong enough for this anymore. She needs him, and she's afraid, and maybe that's why the tingling starts to hurt this time. “Darcy. I’m going to fix it, I promise. I promise.”


	37. Chapter 37

Darcy’s heart is pounding. Racing. So fast. She can’t catch her breath, and her skin feels too hot and tight. The prickling is all over, and it’s not stopping. That’s not right.

Something is wrong. The bright light isn’t going away.

She reaches for Tony, his voice echoing in her mind.

Something collides with her.

“Darcy!”

Darcy opens her mouth, but her throat is dry. Her vocal chords won’t work. She blinks, trying to make the lights recede. Green shapes dance in front of her eyes. Phosphenes her so helpful, really, brain supplies.

“Darcy. Come on, Darcy. Come on, it’s okay now.”

Jane. It’s Jane.

“Hey.” Jane holds Darcy’s face and smiles down at her even as tears drip down her face. Darcy pretty much claws her, trying to drag her closer.“Hey. Hi, you.”

There’s a loud boom. A bomb. Darcy knows that sound, it’s a bomb. “Jane?”

Jane laughs, still crying. “It’s me. Can you stand? I’ll help you.”

Darcy has to lean on Jane heavily. Her limbs don’t want to work, her feet feel heavy. They’re in a lab. Not one that Darcy recognizes.

It’s more professional grade than Jane’s old labs. Too military looking to be one of Tony’s. The emergency lights are flashing on the walls, the overhead sprinklers are on, and only half the lights are on.

Jane clumsily pats at her side, then comes up with a gun. She’s holding it wrong. “Scan her.”

Dr. Cho stands on the other side of the room, her hands slightly raised.

“Darce, get in the scanner okay? We have to make sure we got it all.” Darcy blinks again, and shakes her head trying to get rid of the ringing and make things make sense.

Jane pushes her towards the padded table. Darcy’s hip hits it, and then Jane is pushing harder.

“Just lay down, Darcy. This will only take a moment.” Dr. Cho comes forward, hands still raised.

“Jane?”

“Down, Darce. Everything is okay. Okay?”

Darcy lays down, and Dr. Cho starts pressing buttons on a holographic keyboard. “Okay, but you have a gun, Janie.”

Ha. Janie’s got a gun. Darcy shakes her head again. Not helpful. She needs to be figuring this situation out. Looking for weapons and ways to defend herself if this goes to hell.

“Print the results, Helen.” Jane orders.

Dr. Cho nods, raising her hands again. She knocks into a tray, and tools clatter down from the table. Darcy manages to grab a screwdriver and tuck it under her leg.

Dr. Cho sets four pieces of paper and a file on Darcy’s stomach, then slowly backs away.

“Time to go, Darcy.” Jane keeps the gun pointed towards Dr. Cho. “Helen, put in the emergency code.”

At the back wall, Dr. Cho flips up a light switch to reveal a key pad and fingerprint scanner. A section of the wall slides up, exposing a narrow, dark hallway.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jane mutters, already pushing Darcy forward.

“Fine. Just go.” Dr. Cho whispers.

The door slides shut behind them again. “Are you okay?”

“Better now that I know holding up nice doctors isn’t your thing now.” Darcy tells her. Her voice is only a rasp. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Jane actually stumbles, but she rallies impressively and picks up her punishing pace again, dragging Darcy through a maze of hallways.

“I was expecting an alley in Brooklyn.” Darcy bumps into the wall and leans for a second. “Damn it, Jane. What happened?”

“I will tell you everything, but what is important right now is that a good portion of the US military is going to be coming through these halls after you any minute, and if they find you I’m really worried it will take Thor breaking about nine treaties to make it so you see the light of day again, _Mrs. Rogers_.”

They turn another corner, but stop as voices echo ahead.

“Okay, plan E.” Jane wheels around. “That means, left, left, straight, right.”

“Guessing I don’t want to know what happened to plans A through D?”

“Energy surge, lab invasion, lab locked down, power lines cut and we had to wait for the generators which meant more time for them to surround us, and now jack booted thugs in the way.” Jane pulls her faster. “But we have to hurry, because my other plans all hinge on us getting out of these hallways.”

“I would help you, except I feel like we dipped my shoes in concrete.”

Jane slows long enough to duck under Darcy’s arm and take on some of her weight.

Darcy expects to come out to a pounded gravel lot, to miles of metal fencing, and maybe a runway. She’s seen more than her fair share of military bases.

She does not expect to dart through what looked like a bank lobby and out onto a crowded city street. People are running and screaming, police with riot gear keep a crowd back.

A guy in military olive turns towards them and starts yelling. Someone tries to pull Darcy away from Jane. A fist glances off of Darcy’s face, and a canister flies past spewing white smoke.

A rifle fires, one, two, three times. Darcy falls, and Jane screams.

Darcy kicks and stomps and twists. She manages to get to her feet again only to be body slammed into the side of an armored truck. Jane stomps on the back of her attacker’s knee and he goes down onto his knees. Darcy knees him in the face, watching as he falls backwards and a knife drops from his hand.

“Come on, come on.” Jane collides with Darcy. They crawl under the armored truck. Boots pound past. The smoke gets thicker.

“Now.” Darcy rasps.

They run, Darcy clinging tightly to Jane’s hand. The smoke is so thick no one can see. They hit the riot gear line, and manage to slip through a break. The crowd presses tight. Elbows, shoulders.

It’s like that rock concert she went to when she was fourteen that turned into a mosh pit. Only not.

They finally break free, but the smoke is drifting on the breeze and the crowd swarms. More police are running towards them.

Darcy tips her head back, trying to get more air, and sees the street sign. “Plan F!”

Then she jogs through the pain, still holding Jane’s hand. They hide behind a dumpster for ten minutes waiting for someone to follow them. Darcy watches the reflections in every surface. She digs out her pouch, then her cell phone. There is no service. The pager works though. She pings Tony, again and again. So he’ll know it’s an emergency.And she leads Jane to her apartment.

Her big brass key works, like always. The door opens smoothly. But at the elevator, there’s a new fancy finger print pad. Tony had said he was going to add some security measures. Hopefully he did it in true Tony Stark fashion, and it makes the President’s security measures look like child’s play.

Because Darcy doesn’t think she can run anymore.

Darcy presses her thumb to it, and the elevator doors slide open.

“Okay. Okay.” Jane helps haul Darcy into the elevator. “Stay with me, Darce.”

“Sorry.” Darcy whispers, because that’s not happening.


	38. Chapter 38

“Are you really awake this time?” Jane leans close, so her nose is practically touching Darcy’s. “Last time I thought you were awake, but then you asked me to beam you up.”

Darcy groans as a throbbing headache makes itself known. “Water.”

“Got it.” Jane shoves a glass of water at Darcy, then holds out her hand. Two large white pills rest in her palm.

“You’re a gift, Jane Arnold Foster.”

Jane’s face crumples. “Darcy. Oh, god, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry. _I’m so, so sorry._ ”

Darcy chugs the water, trying to relieve the sharp dryness in her throat so she could actually talk. “Jane. Janie. Do you know what I was just telling Tony a few months slash who the hell knows how long ago?”

“Tony.” Jane covers her mouth as tears well over.

“That I wouldn’t change it. Jane, you don’t even know.” Darcy coughs and takes another drink. “Or maybe you know a little.”

A laugh shudders out of Jane. “Only you would get sent back in time and marry Captain America.”

“I’ll tell you all about it.” Darcy promises, even as she realizes there is so much that Jane doesn’t know. That maybe Darcy won’t be able to explain. “But I think what’s happening right now is more important. What year is it?”

“2016.”

For a second, her vision reduces to a tiny pinprick. Gooseflesh prickles all over her skin. Her world tilts sideways. “2016. It happened. I went past my time. I’m going to keep going. No. No.”

“Darcy, stop.” Jane climbs onto the bed and holds Darcy’s face between her hands. “Darcy. You’re not going anywhere, okay? Never again. I have the files and you can see for yourself. Are you listening to me?”

Jane scrambles off the bed and runs from the room, bare feet pounding. She comes skidding back, the medical file clutched in her hands.

“Darcy, look. Look at this.” Jane adjusts Darcy’s head, so it’s pointed down. Two scans of a human body are side by side. “This is you in 2004, after the car accident. And this is you today, Darcy.”

Jane jabs at the first image, motioning to a bright red discoloration that surrounds Darcy’s body. “And that? That is your energy signature. I mean, you looked like a star, Darce. But Helen and I separated the energy from you today. That’s why you feel like shit. Also, because you got shot.”

“Again?” Darcy murmurs, looking between the two scans. “How do you know, Jane? I mean, for sure.”

“That’s a lot to go into right now, and we have so much to cover, but just trust that Tony, Helen and I all agree. Can you trust that? Can you trust me?”

Darcy looks up at her friend. Her friend from what feels like so long ago. Jane looks grim, she looks tired, but Darcy had seen her grim and tired. This is different. This is more.

Darcy feels like she’s a different person, and maybe Jane is too. Time has passed for Jane just like it had for Darcy. Darcy lets out a breath as she recognizes the steady look in Jane’s eyes, the one that had been there when Jane promised she wouldn’t leave Darcy behind after New Mexico.

Well, Darcy isn’t leaving Jane behind either.

“Of course I trust you.” Darcy runs a hand over her front. She finds a lump caused by bandages underneath her shirt. It’s one of her nightshirts, and her bra is gone.

“Again?” Jane asks, pulling Darcy’s hand away. “How many times have you been shot?”

“This is my third time. Another two times I was just grazed.” Darcy twists her fingers in Jane’s when the other woman winces. “We’re not going to be cool if you keep holding this against yourself. I could have holed up someplace and hid, but I didn’t. I made my choices, Jane. I’m pretty happy with all of them, starting from when I signed on for a twelve month internship so I didn’t have to spend another semester waking up at seven for a physics class.”

Darcy's ease is ripped away when she hears something thump out in the living room.

“It’s okay. It’s Maggie and her team.” Jane looks back towards the door. “And Sten, Hogun and Sif.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Maggie Carter sticks her head in. She looks relieved to see Darcy awake. Her brown curls now have a shot of gray, but she still looks mostly the same. A few extra lines at her eyes and mouth, but the same green eyes and brashly confident way of holding herself.

“Maggie.” Darcy smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, Rogers. You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Maggie comes further into the the room. It’s the first time Darcy has seen her out of one kind of uniform another. The other woman wears a pair of dark jeans and a drape-y blue shirt. If it wasn’t for the gun strapped to her hip, she’d look right at home at a farmer’s market. “They had to dig the bullet out, but you’re going to live. I had them keep it, just in case you wanted it.”

“You keep yours, don’t you?” Darcy asks, not quite able to hide a shudder.

Maggie smirks and holds up her left hand. A metal bracelet graces her wrist, a mesh of different colored metals. “I’ve got the rest of the team here. I’ll introduce you to the ones you haven’t met once you’ve pulled yourself together.”

The other woman ends her sentence with a judging glance over Darcy’s place in bed. It makes Darcy smile, and Maggie smiles back before nodding.

“Stark told us we could trust Dr. Foster here. Is there anything you need from us?”

“I’m good with Jane, and I’m good with Tony.” Darcy tells her, trying answer all the questions she didn’t ask.

Something flashes in Maggie’s eyes, but the other woman only nods again and leaves the room.

“Tony is okay, right?” Darcy tries to control the panic that wants to race through her veins. She’s in the future now. She has no idea what’s going to happen. No assurance that Tony lives through whatever is going on, and since she’d last seen him he’d suited up and decided to become a superhero.

She kicks at the sheets and twists out of them, pushing through the pain to get to her feet. There’s the little side table she bought in Spain with Dum-Dum and Jac, and Howard had shipped home for her.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just when Rebecca told me-“ Darcy lets out a shaky breath and turns back to face Jane, who now stands at the foot of the bed, arms stretched towards Darcy. “We were in bed, it’s stupid. Stupid, sorry, but Tony?”

“The last that anyone heard, Tony is fine. There are rumors he’s in Japan or Australia. Or Seattle.” Jane shrugs.

“The last anyone heard?” Darcy frowns. “What does that even mean? Tony doesn’t do low profile.”

There’s another knock at the door, and Hogun steps in. He scans the room, then merely looks at Jane.

“We’re fine. Thanks.” Jane says, then rolls her eyes when he leaves the room. “How is that,” she flaps a hand towards the living room, “our life?”

“Jane, I just noticed that a big chunk of New York is on fire.” Darcy nods towards the windows, and the part of the city that has smoke pouring out of it. “Maybe some housekeeping notes are in order?”

There’s that look again. The one Maggie had given her. “Jane, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Darcy, there is a lot to cover. I don’t know where to start.”

“Start somewhere, because I want to know why people were shooting at us and where the fuck Tony is.”

“Uh, okay. I’m going to do my best here, okay? So aliens invaded New York, and Thor teamed up with Tony and some other people to defend it. Oh! Clint and Natasha! You know them. They were there, as Hawkeye and Black Widow. And the Hulk.”

“Big green guy who broke Harlem?”

“Yes, he’s actually Dr. Banner from Culver?” Jane waves her hand. “But that doesn’t matter right now. So anyway, they teamed up and they were the Avengers.”

“Tony’s doing team sports?” Darcy quips, partly in genuine surprise, and partly because there is something heavy and scary in Jane’s eyes.

“Yes. Team sports. And then Tony accidentally made an evil robot army, and they had to fight that. A small country, Sokovia, got mostly destroyed.”

“Damn.” Darcy blows out a breath. “He means well, Jane. I don’t know what went wrong, and I know he seems like an asshole, but Tony is a good person. And it would have killed him. We need to find him.”

“There’s more.” Jane interrupts. “It kind of turned into a big political debate. Who are the Avengers accountable to? What right do they have to insert themselves into international issues? Someone made a mistake, and people got hurt in Lagos. The Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, pushed for the Sokovia Accords.”

“They made General Ross fucking Secretary of State? What the fuck?” Darcy tips her head backwards and looks up the ceiling. Politics are fucking insane. “He’s evil, Jane. I’m nearly certain he’s evil. Does no one pay attention? He’s fucking nuts. That shit with the Hulk? That was not okay.”

“Well, somehow it happened. And a bunch of nations signed the Accords. Including us, the UK, France... Wakanda.”

“Wakanda?”

“I should have known you would know about Wakanda.” Jane holds up her hands. “Anyway, some of the Avengers signed. Others didn’t and became fugitives. Ross sent the ones that did sign to apprehend the ones that didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah. That sounds reasonable. And the world is just going along with this?” Darcy paces, then stops because that hurts. “So Tony didn’t sign, and the other Avengers are after him.”

“Tony did sign. So did the Black Widow and Vision.”

“What? Tony signed something with Ross? Where was Jim? Pepper? Who is Vision?” Darcy gives in and sits on the edge of the bed. “Or am I missing something here?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know, Darce. Tony doesn’t really have heart to hearts with me. And Thor was off-world in all of this, looking for you.” Jane sits next to Darcy. “Up until six months ago, we thought you’d been sent someplace in the universe. But after the prison break, someone started digging where Ross was concerned.”

“Ross? What does Ross have to do with me, and what prison break?”

“After we get through this I’ll hand you a tablet and you can go to town, okay?” Jane promises. “The point is, someone started digging, and Ross came up dirty.”

“I for one am shocked.” Darcy mutters.

“It turned out that he had classified Tony as expendable. Tony’s suit could be worn by a better soldier, and Tony was an acceptable loss, unnecessary.” Jane takes Darcy’s hand. “And he had labeled me as a level one threat to global security. He arranged for an unstable element to be placed my lab. It had an out of control energy signature, and had caused numerous lab explosions.”

“Energy signature.”

“Yeah. It didn’t cause an explosion. It sent you back in time apparently.” Jane squeezes Darcy’s fingers. “Somehow he found that out, and he had an entire file on you. You’re also a member of the level one threats club. You rated a kill on sight order.”

“Getting shot makes more sense now.”

“At least is seems like most of the world is really pissed about it? And all of Asgard is?”

“Is that why we’ve got Thor’s besties out there?”

“Kind of. It turns out being his lightning sister is kind of a big deal. Also, I married him.”

Darcy had just taken another drink of her water and chokes. “Wha-fuck. Jane. Warn a girl.”

“If I warned you about every crazy thing I have to tell you, we’d be here all day.”

“Fair enough, but still.” Darcy takes another couple sips. “Are you happy? Are you guys okay? Where is he now?”

“He’s on earth. He’s looking for the others.” Jane takes Darcy’s empty water glass and walks to the bathroom. The sink comes on. “And we’re good. It wasn’t a huge thing. I mean, we wanted to get married, but we did it now because of all of this. He wanted me to have the universe version of diplomatic immunity, in case this goes any more to shit. And also for Ross to get sanctioned for basically trying to kill us.”

“What I’m hearing is that once we get this all straightened, I get to throw a giant ass party for you.” Darcy accepts the newly refilled glass of water. She’s still super thirsty. Apparently a side-effect from the whole energy time-cannon thing. “Okay. Politics are shit. Assassination is a worry. Tony is fucked up right now. You’re married and space royalty. Is that everything?”

There’s that look again.

“What? What else could there be?”

“Well, last housekeeping thing. There’s some big threat out in space, and it’s coming here. Thor is worried, that’s why he’s trying to find the Avengers. So they can defend Earth.” Jane bites her lip. “It turns out that Earth somehow ended up with some of these things called Infinity Stones, and there’s this guy called Thanos who has most of them. The thing Ross put in my lab was one of them.”

“Ah, world ending event. How could I have forgotten that one?”

“Darce.”

“I would super appreciate it if you didn’t look at me like that. I’ve seen a lot of that look over the years, you know? Someone died, and you already told me Tony is okay. It’s Peg, isn’t it?”

“Damn, I forgot about Peggy. Yeah, Darcy. I’m so sorry, Peggy passed away earlier this year. If it makes you feel better, she passed in her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” Darcy stands again. “Damn. Damn it, Peg. Oh, hell.”

Jane waits while Darcy gets herself under control. Darcy can practically hear Peggy telling to pull herself together. _Now isn’t the time fall apart, Rogers_.

“Darcy?” Jane says softly. “I will help you get through this. Whatever you need.”

“There’s more.” Darcy nods, steels herself. “Okay. Hit me.”

Jane hesitates. “It’s about Steve. Steve Rogers?”

“That is the first Steve that comes to mind.” Darcy deadpans. Jane had called her Darcy Rogers earlier, so Jane knows. “But Howard was practically obsessed with finding Steve during the forties. I really doubt anyone dug up anything Howard missed.”

“They found his plane. Frozen solid on the bottom of the Arctic ocean.”

“The Valkyrie.” Darcy murmurs. “Was he- Was he on it, still? Was he recovered?”

Jane bites her lip and nods. “He was recovered. He was frozen.”

Darcy flinches. It had been in the Arctic waters. Glaciers. She’d had dreams, after seeing some of the search and rescue footage Howard had. Dreams of Steve trapped inside the plane, icy water closing around him. In her dreams, he’s still her Steve and not Captain America.

Her eyes burn at the thought again.

“He was frozen in a solid block of ice. SHIELD found him, and they thawed it off him.”

Shuddering, Darcy turns away as if that will change things. “I don’t know that I want to know this, Jane.”

That was a lesson she’d learned. Steve is a huge gaping wound in her heart. Maybe someday it would heal a bit, scar over. But spending days and weeks and months in Howard’s vault, learning everything she could about Captain America, hadn’t helped her deal with losing _Steve_.

“He’s alive, Darcy.” Jane says, squeezing her fingers tight. “Steve’s alive.”

A laugh bursts out of Darcy’s throat. Then she pushes her hair back from her face and her brain just grinds to a halt. Everything just stops. Like her world jumped tracks and there’s nothing on the new one.

“Not funny Jane.” Darcy says, her voice coming out lower than normal.

“I would never joke about this. He was the leader of the Avengers, he fought at the battle of New York, and he was the leader of the part of the Avengers that didn’t sign the Accords.” Jane picks up a tablet. “He’s also the one that broke the other fugitive Avengers out of the Raft, which is a giant maximum security prison. Here.”

On the screen that Jane pushes into Darcy’s hands, a man wearing the Captain America uniform flings the shield at a hulking thing in armor. The man is fighting next to Natasha. Then Jane flicks that video away, and instead Darcy is looking at him in sweats, running at the National Monument.

There are more images, more videos, even some where he’s talking, at a press conference. But there is a roaring sound in Darcy’s ears. She turns away from Captain America, and instead looks at the picture on her nightstand. John had gotten it for her, somehow tracking down Eddie Krantz from the old newspaper, who had taken a picture as a favor to Steve, but had never developed it. It's Darcy and Steve outside the courthouse, the day they got married. It's her Steve.

It’s how Darcy learns that Sten isn’t a warrior sent down to protect the future queen. He’s a healer. He gives her something to drink, it’s got a pinkish hue and tastes kind of like tea, only it’s a little gritty.

And she suddenly doesn’t feel like she’s breathing through a straw.

Maggie Carter stands behind him, watching his every move. Jane holds Darcy’s hand tightly.

Sten mixes something else together. It steams. “Drink this, Lady Darcy, and you will know peace. Your contact with the Space Stone, and the removal of its effect from your body has left you weakened. This will take your pain, soothe your spirit, and order your mind.”

“It’s okay, Darcy. You can trust him.” Jane assures her.

Darcy’s got some kind of magic potion, peer pressure joke rattling around in her brain. But she’s also got a strong urge to throw up, the tip of her nose has gone numb from lack of oxygen, and her heart is threatening beat right out of her chest.

So she takes the round little glass Sten holds out and tosses it back in one gulp.


	39. Chapter 39

_Where is Darcy Rogers?_

_How Does the World Come Back from Attacking Its Heroes?_

_US Secretary of State: Kill Captain America’s Wife on Sight_

_Ross: Greatest mind of our generation is ‘an acceptable loss’_

Darcy is digging through the past six years, devouring everything she can find. She watches footage of the battle of New York. She sees gut wrenching cell phone footage of Sokovia. Next she’s seeing Jane hounded by the media outside her lab, first about Thor and then later about Darcy.

_The Earth’s Avenger Thor Speaks as Prince of Asgard: on Asgard Jane Foster is recognized as both one of the greatest minds in the universe and as the future queen._

_What if Thor takes the Avengers off-world?_

_US Department of Veterans Affairs and UN International Court of Justice: Winter Soldier was Prisoner of War and is not a war criminal_

In between fluff pieces and tweets sent to Captain America about companies getting him up to date by sending him free samples, she sees paparazzi pictures of Peggy’s funeral. Then she reads a political opinion piece on how likely Thor is to leave Earth based on the previous years events, and then gets lost watching the Malibu house break off the cliff and fall into the ocean.

_The Ethics of Time Travel – To Change the Future or Not – Or Did Darcy Rogers do enough?_

_Will the Avengers abandon the Earth that betrayed them?_

_Why should Scarlet Witch, Hawkeye, Ant Man and the Falcon come out of hiding after their basic human rights were violated?_

There are entire articles about what responsibilities Darcy had when she went back in time, and if she lived up to them. Moral debates were had on late night TV. There was a brief attempt to charge her with war crimes for not doing more.

The Smithsonian put out a call for citizen historians to help sort through the SHIELD data dump, and historical records for pictures and mentions of Darcy.

There was an entire exhibit as a follow up to one they had on Captain America. She sees photos of herself in the Prescott’s backyard, at the Stark Mansion with Maria, Howard, and Tony. Sitting on the wing of an airplane next to Falsworth. Pictures she’d never seen before. There are even interviews, one from Gladys Prescott-Boyle, that old bat. She walks all over the poor interviewer.

_Ross asked who will hold Avengers accountable; Who holds him accountable?_

_Darcy Rogers completed fifty-four air missions and nineteen ground engagements, official investigation finds._

_Ross' Department of Defense Embassy in New York is rejected by White House: Secretary Ross does not determine or create US Embassies and is operating outside of the law_

The media storm surrounding the Winter Soldier’s discovery, and later unmasking as Bucky. SHIELD falling at the Triskelion. Tony unveiling clean energy. Thor’s interviews, in the beginning friendly and open, and then later, after he returned to find the Avengers in shambles and Jane under attack, angry and foreboding.

_Hank Pym vindicated in defense of Darcy Rogers – All charges dismissed against time traveler_

_The only Avenger to fully support cooperation with the UN now on the run; Tony Stark declared fugitive by Ross while Ross himself is investigated_

_Lost in Time: When is Darcy Rogers Now?_

She sees a tall magenta man called Vision standing next to Tony in a damn pull over sweater and slacks. The growing push for more accountability, and good old fashioned fear mongering. She goes back to 2010, re-watches Tony called on by Senator Stern to hand over the suit.

She’d seen it at the time. She and Jane had cheered. After their experiences, it had been hella awesome to see a scientist tell the government to go fuck itself. Plus, Darcy had been all about that sass.

Now though? That’s her Tony sitting in that seat. That’s her Tony who has found his purpose, who lifts his chin. Who says he is Iron Man. And at the end he says he tried to play ball with these ass-clowns.

And she thinks on what could have made him sign the Accords. With fucking Ross. Of where he had to be emotionally to think he was doing the right thing. Because no one makes Tony do anything, ever. And he always follows his heart. If his heart can’t be fucked to show up, he doesn’t fake it. He’ll be an asshole about your asshole uncle dying on you.

Something made him think signing the Accords was the right thing to do. And Darcy reads about Tony taking a nuke into space, and free falling back to Earth. She reads about him creating an army to protect the world, and it turning around and doing the opposite.

She sees something that looks like a real friendship between Bruce Banner and Tony, but then Banner leaves. Tony doesn’t do so well on his own. He shares that characteristic with Darcy. She wonders if Tony is feeling as lost as she is. 

_Stark Industries CEO subpoenaed: slams Secretary Ross “I may not know where Tony is, but I do know that you should be ashamed of yourself”_

_She’s Back! Darcy Rogers shot during escape from US Department of Defense Embassy in New York during riots._

_White House confirms: Secretary Ross gave order to sabotage Dr. Jane Foster’s lab_

Darcy pushes the tablet away, rubbing at her temples. Jane sleeps on next to her. Darcy isn’t surprised – apparently it had been over two days since Jane slept during the final push to bring Darcy back.

Back.

It doesn’t matter how much she looks at the two scans, or reads through Jane, Helen, and Tony’s research, she can’t quite believe that she isn’t going to feel that familiar tingling again and be pulled away.

She also can’t quite believe that Steve is supposedly out there. It simply does not compute. She’s back to trying to make her mind accept that her Steve is Captain America. Even still, her heart aches in her chest. Hope flares so dangerously that she wants to cry.

And Bucky? She’d lost the battle with her stomach when she’d seen his name, then done a search. Every detail stabs at her heart, and she thinks of Rebecca.

She’s lost. Untethered. She could have trusted Peggy’s word. Peggy who had dumped that vial of Steve’s blood. Peggy who had always told her straight, for better or worse. But Peggy is gone, the last person that tied Darcy to the past.

She needs Tony. He needs her too. The pictures and video she’d seen of him before he’d gone into hiding had reminded her of the way he’d looked after Howard and Maria died in the accident. And a part of her can't believe that it really is over. Another part of her resists the idea of Captain America, all of those doubts resurfacing about her Steve being... that. And maybe she can think on it, even as her heart rears back in white hot fear, but first she needs Tony. She needs a goddamn anchor in all of this, and Tony sure as hell needs one too.

Jim is hospitalized, and Stark Industries is spending millions on spinal injury research. From what she can gather from the media, and she knows just how trustworthy it is, Tony and Pepper had separated even before the Accords.

Needing an escape, she’d buried herself in reading them. The Accords. There isn’t anything too outlandish in them. It’s hundreds of pages of dry legalese that adds up to a whole lot of somewhat reasonable sounding regulations.

The danger lies in how vague they are, and how easily they could be amended. Darcy isn’t the only one that’s noticed this. The Accords have been torn apart ever since they’d been signed.

As far as Darcy can see, Jane is right. Public sentiment has turned. There have been protests and riots.

Wanda Maximoff has become an international cause, a refugee from Sokovia, imprisoned in a maximum security prison and strapped into a straight jacket. Best estimates put her age between twenty-one and twenty-four. The picture of her in the straight jacket is splashed all over newspapers and magazines almost as much as the picture of her at a political protest with her brother.

The United States hasn’t managed to state an official position, but France, Wakanda and twenty-three other nations have already derided the Accords and Secretary Ross.

Through it all, something thrums in Darcy’s blood. It stirs at the back of her mind. Whispers along with every thought. Steve. Steve. Steve.

Suddenly she’s closer to days with the reddish light of the sun bouncing off the bricks of the apartments next door, and the sound of Steve making the coffee in the morning while she’s still dragging herself out of bed. His nimble fingers helping her pin her hair in place since she’d still relied on Rebecca for that before she’d moved across the alley.

Feeling every bump of his spine as she trails her fingers down it, and leaving kisses over the sharp jut of his collar bones.

“Lady Darcy.” Sten’s voice is quiet and even. He stands just inside the doorway, and again Maggie is at his back. “You are awake.”

Darcy nods and sets aside the tablet. She carefully climbs off of the bed, trying not to wake Jane. Even still, she brushes a hand down Jane’s leg, unable to believe that she’s really seeing her again.

“You should eat something. A meal has been prepared.”

Darcy glances back at Jane again. She almost doesn’t want to leave the room. Like Jane might disappear, or this could all be a dream. But she’s starving, and she can’t hide forever.


	40. Chapter 40

As she walks, the skin pulls tight at the bandages, and underneath them. The sting is grounding, cutting through cottony feel of her mind after having been buried in the text on her tablet for the last several hours. After thinking of Steve.

She’s not sure she really slept at all, more she’d been lost in her thoughts. Whatever Sten had given her, it had seemed to dull anxiety and adrenaline. Her breaths had come easy and deep. The room had felt cocooned away from the rest of the world.

She wouldn’t call it pleasant – she could tell that something was wrong. She couldn’t follow certain thoughts to their conclusions. Her mind had shied away from them. Even as she couldn’t find it in her to care very much, she’d been displeased.

Still, certain thoughts made sense. It was easy to make connections. Harder to examine the what ifs. Logic, maybe. Logic in a world where nothing could go wrong, which is not the world Darcy lives in.

It had helped with the heavy, sluggish feeling that had plagued her from the second she woke up in the lab. A metaphorical otherworldly shot of espresso after a hell of a metaphorical otherworldly all-nighter.

In the full living room, Darcy recognizes everyone except for one younger man. He’s seated at Rebecca’s piano in front of the windows. His hands move softly but deftly over the keys, picking out a complicated and lovely tune effortlessly.

It’s very strange, seeing so many people in the apartment. She’s never had more than three people in it total, before today. Now Meg Morita picks her way towards an arm chair laden with various computers and tablets, wearing a backwards Giants cap and carrying a glass of green liquid. Despite having a compact build, with narrow shoulders and hips, there is nothing graceful or light-footed about the way she moves.

Darcy recognizes the man leaning next to the piano as the Jones from the ambulance after the Bugatti wreck. The Asgardians are fixing plates at the dining room table. Maggie is sorting through a mountain of black tactical bags.

“Lady Darcy!” Sif beams from her spot next to the dining room table, a full plate in her hand. “It is good to see you looking so well.”

Maggie raises both brows at Darcy and crosses the room. “Darcy, let me introduce you to the team. You might remember Meg Morita?”

Meg toasts Darcy with her glass, then returns to her computers.

“Timothy Jones is at the piano.” Maggie continues, and the man jumps to his feet to shake Darcy’s hand. He knocks one of Meg’s tablets off it’s precarious perch on an end table, but manages to snag it and seems unaffected by Meg’s hiss. “And you didn’t officially meet your namesake, Lewis Jones.”

The Jones from the ambulance steps forward with a smile that is one hundred percent Gabe’s. The skin crinkles at his eyes as he shakes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you for real, finally.”

“Polly Dernier is en route. She was in South Africa. My cousin Sharon is coming from Germany.” Maggie motions towards the dining room table. “Why don’t we sit, and I can familiarize you with the team.”

Hogun pulls Darcy’s chair out for her and Sten pours her a fresh glass of water from a pitcher in the middle of the table. Or at least, it looks like water.

“No more medicines for now. However, after your meal I will need to take a look at the wound and apply a poultice.” Sten nods in a way that is almost a bow, then walks into the kitchen.

“Please do not take offense at my advice, Lady, but in my experience it is best to avoid red meat after partaking of the mind medicine.” Sif nudges a plate of roasted chicken towards Darcy.

“You’ve taken it before?” Darcy suddenly realizes how hungry she is. The over-laden table doesn’t seem so over-laden anymore. Especially considering that Sif just took five sandwiches and enough mashed potatoes for a family of four. And Hogun is eating directly out of what remains of the serving bowl of mashed potatoes. They both sit in an almost defiant kind of way, and Darcy guesses it's their way of making it clear they aren't going to leave during Maggie's debriefing.

“Aye. You would be hard pressed to find a warrior who has many years on the battlefield and has not required the gentle easing of their thoughts. It is an interruption that encourages the healing of the spirit, is it not?” Sif plucks up a blue bowl JJ had sent her from Paris and sets it closer to Darcy. It's filled with green beans.

Darcy nods. Considering she was pretty sure she’d been seconds away from a panic attack, she can definitely understand the mind medicine would be a useful tool in treating those fresh from the fight.

She’d seen battle fatigued soldiers, as they’d called it then. The more old school soldiers had called it shell shock

Darcy follows Sif’s advice and sticks to chicken and vegetables. There’s also tapenade, and eggplant wraps. Maggie explains that Meg’s body is a temple, unless there’s some serious hacking to be done. Then it’s all cooler ranch Doritos, all the time. Maggie takes the seat next to Darcy, setting a tablet next to Darcy’s plate. Maggie presses her palm to it.

“We’ll get it logged with your hand print later. This is your docket on the team. Things have become a little more convoluted since the fall of SHIELD. Maria Hill is currently the director of new SHIELD, although Phil Coulson operates a splinter team.” Maggie explains. “I’m currently Head of Defense under Maria.”

Maggie taps a few things, and Darcy is looking down at Maggie’s personnel file. Unredacted, as far as she could see. She’d have to check later to see if the back doors she’d programmed in still existed.

“Meg is my right hand, still the best hacker I know.” Maggie flicks from file to file. “Polly specializes in heavy artillery and explosives, she’s currently independent contract. We miss her skill, but it’s a better fit for her.”

“She means that Polly lives to blow shit up, and didn’t handle it well when SHIELD called for an explosions specialist, just in case.” Lewis explains, and when Maggie rolls her eyes he winks at her. “Now everyone just has to expect that if you call on Polly, shit’s getting blown up whether the situation changes or not.”

“Thank you, Lewis.” Maggie flicks again. “Lewis here is a Field Officer with SHIELD, he’s also our best contact with Coulson’s team. He’s good with people, and good at facilitating interdepartmental or cross organization cooperation. Very useful, if annoying.”  
“Can I get an amen?” Meg calls.

“Megsie is just pissed my Dodgers owned the Giants. It was damn near a sweep.” Lewis confides.

“Don’t call me Megsie. Damn near is nothing, and besides you’re exaggerating, as usual. You’re not even a real fan, so I don’t want to hear it.” Meg doesn’t look up from her various screen, typing rapidly.

“Maybe, maybe, I started rooting for the Dodgers to spite her-“

“You grew up in Georgia and you hate sports.” Meg interrupts.

“But I’ve been a diehard Dodgers fan for eight years now.” Lewis finishes, like Meg hadn’t spoken.

“Moving on,” Maggie says, drawing Darcy’s attention back to the lap top, “The baby of the family, Tim is a specialist in personal protection. Best in his class at hand-to-hand, by a landslide.”

Darcy laughs under her breath, remembering Maggie’s adequate shooting, and looks back into the living room. Tim is now holding Meg’s cords with one hand, the other hand is absently twirling a knife while he focuses on _Judge Judy_ on the TV.

“So Peggy would say he’s adequate?” Darcy asks.

Maggie looks up, and then Darcy gets to watch the words click into place. A slow smile blooms, at Darcy’s wittiness in remembering something from so long ago. It’s a familiar sight, but she never seems to learn and still makes the quips.

“Capable, probably.” Maggie grins. Another tap on the tablet, and Darcy is looking at Sharon Carter’s file. “We’ve also got my cousin Sharon. Second cousin, actually. Did you ever meet my grandma’s youngest brother Ed? He didn’t get married until he was fifty. Had Sharon a few years later.”

“She’s stubborn, didn’t want any connections to the family in her career. After SHIELD fell she went CIA, so it’s been complicated getting her here now that she’s in the circle.” Lewis explains. He leans closer, “Also, Megsie still hasn’t forgiven her for going CIA.”

“Their encryption is shit, okay? Plus they’re choked by politics, they have paperwork for their paperwork, and half the time they show up it’s like clown school.” Meg shoves a tablet away and pulls a laptop closer. “But you know Sharon, can’t listen to anyone.”

“Now that she’s in circle?” Darcy asks, seeing that Sharon is only a couple years younger than Meg.

“Like Lewis said, she didn’t want any connections to the family. Work and home life separation.” Maggie shrugs a shoulder. “Once she earned her place in SHIELD she got the same side-op package as the rest of us. She just didn’t open it. It was only a couple months after Grandma died that she did.”

“Sharon doesn’t take any bullshit, and sometimes that makes her rigid. But if things go to hell? You want her at your side.” Lewis refills his water and tips the pitcher towards Darcy. She notices he’s missing the top half of his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand, and he catches her looking. “Polly. I was eleven, she was fourteen. She lost all hearing in her right ear.”

“Why don’t look you this over.” Maggie hands over the tablet. “I’ve also got a grab bag for you. Stark kind of took it over, wouldn’t let me open it without him present. It’s got a print scanner there on the side, keyed to you.”

“I think the healer wants another look at you.” Lewis nods his head towards the kitchen door way.

Darcy nods at Sten and abandons her now empty plate. Hogun nods at her as he leaves the kitchen.

It isn’t pleasant getting the bandage off, and the poultice is even worse. It sizzles, and while there isn’t a burning sensation per se, the stinging sensation along with the soundtrack makes for a shitty time. There is also the sharp scent of copper, almost strong enough to make her tongue curl like she’d licked a battery.

She does have to admit the wound looks pretty damn good – more along the lines of a week into healing instead of hours.

It’s definitely a little more tender when she walks back out into the living room. Hogun looks like he’s going to die if she sits on the floor instead of taking his seat, so she drags her grab bag over to it.


	41. Chapter 41

Darcy isn't sure what to expect from a bag compiled by Maggie and Tony.

It’s a bunch of sweet tasers. Bracelet taser, necklace taser, earring tasers. Actual handheld tasers. Lipstick taser. And the lipstick actually works and is a boss color. Tony had apparently had a field day doing his spy movie gadget guru best. Her heart sinks when she doesn’t find a cell phone. Only another pair of bracelets, two metal bangles that are overly heavy for their size.

From Maggie there’s also a pair of Berettas, a bullet proof vest, a burner phone, and a collection of fake IDs and passports and disguises to match.

Darcy returns to the bangles. 

Maggie doesn’t have any idea what they do, and is uneasy with Darcy even touching them. Darcy tries twisting them, she looks for a finger print scanner. She even tries talking to Jarvis. 

“Ah!” Sif smiles, shooting a slightly imperious look towards Maggie. “I may be of help, Lady Darcy.”

Darcy looks up from the two bangles. “Okay. But please just call me Darcy.”

Sif’s smile widens. “Thank you, Darcy. I will make certain that you never regret the trust and friendship you have placed in me.” 

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, we’re friends. Live through an incinerating death bot together, instant friends.” Darcy hurriedly assures, as Sif’s smile had dimmed. “I just mean that I wasn’t asking anything, okay?”

“You do not have to ask.” Sif again looks towards Maggie, then picks up one of the bangles. As if to hammer the point home that she is not afraid, Sif tosses it from hand to hand. “Now, as I said, I have knowledge that might be useful to you. The Good Jarvis helped to provide the spirit for the one called Vision. Now there is Good Friday.”

“Good Friday?” Darcy repeats even as she curses internally. Jarvis had still been having quite a few issues with bugs when Darcy left Tony in 2004. But already Tony had treated him more like a friend than an unfeeling machine. And Darcy had her doubts about the unfeeling part. 

If Jim is out of commission while he heals, and Pepper has left Tony, Darcy really didn’t like hearing that Jarvis is gone as well. 

“Friday. Stark’s new AI, runs almost every operation at the Tower, and possibly also the Malibu house, though that’s currently unconfirmed. Female voice, Irish accent. Not as receptive to SHIELD presence as Jarvis was.” Meg reels off. “So far, impossible to hack. Beautiful, really.” 

“Shocker.” Darcy mutters, thinking of how government agencies had been treating Tony lately. Acceptable loss. Darcy hopes the new AI is giving them all hell. 

So Darcy tries talking to Friday in her bracelets. Nothing happens. Finally, she shrugs and puts them on. Unable to resist, she does a Wonder Woman pose. 

“Rogers, that might not be a good idea.” Maggie warns. “There isn’t any guarantee that Stark learned his lesson after Ultron, and we have no indication when he placed those bracelets in the bag.”

“He put them in after Ross declared him a fugitive.” Jane looks around the living room with narrowed eyes and accepts the helping hand Hogun offers her as she steps over Meg’s computer cords. “Is there coffee?”

“Just made a fresh pot.” Lewis motions with his cup. Darcy shakes her head at him, rookie mistake.

His brow puckers in confusion, but then Jane reaches him and takes his mug. Understanding dawns as she gulps it down. Jane hands back the empty mug and continues towards the kitchen.

“You saw Stark after the Accords?” Maggie looks up from her tablet, eyes tracking Jane.

Jane gives her a slightly withering look, and passes her with another word. Hogun follows after Jane. The strange vibe between the Asgardians and the team makes a little more sense.

They are probably taking their cues from Jane, and Jane doesn’t like government agents to begin with, but these ones showed up and demanded an all access pass invoking Darcy’s name. It’s actually pretty amazing they’re not camping out in the hall.

They all freeze at the sound of a distant explosion, then Tim is changing the channel on the TV. Darcy realizes the picture is damn near perfect, despite the TV being the same one she’d picked out in the sixties. She’d spent hours with her arms buried in that thing to get it working in 2004, but no way those repairs had held up. Tony must have modified it for her.

Tim stops on a news channel and leans forward in his seat. Jane comes to stand next to Darcy, a cup of coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. She offers a bite of the sandwich wordlessly. 

Darcy shouldn’t be hungry, but she is. Probably more energy bullshit.

“It was another attempt on Avengers Tower. It failed.” Meg has one earbud in, and her head is cocked. “Ross’s troops are ignoring a cease and desist order, on the grounds of no one having authority over them.” 

Outside the window, more smoke rises. Darcy can see at least six helicopters. It looks like a dystopian movie outside her little tower. She can’t see Avengers Tower from her window, but she can see the smoke. The scene on the television shows the glass of the building completely unaffected by the explosives.

“We need to get out of New York.” Jane says quietly. “I promised Thor we would leave if there wasn’t a reason we needed to be here.”

Darcy’s eyes become stuck on the screen as she sees the riot, she sees herself and Jane running through the street. She sees Jane fling herself in front of Darcy, arms spread. 

“Jane.”

“It was nothing. Thor pretty much promised to shove his hammer up the ass of anyone who even looks at me wrong.” Jane twists her lips into a smile despite the tremor in her voice. 

“Sniper on the East-side Trade building got you.” Meg taps at one of her laptops. “Got him on camera. He’s wearing Army Ranger gear, but that doesn’t mean anything right now.”

On the television screen Darcy jerks backwards and red blooms on the front of her shirt. She doesn’t remember that. She does remember the guy that tackles her against the side of the truck though. 

The news anchor comes back on, saying that no one knows where Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Rogers are right now, or Darcy Roger’s medical status. A clip is shown of the president, condemning the actions of the special forces. 

“Activity at the entrance.” Meg abandons her laptop for a pair of tablets. “Facial recognition software confirms it’s Agent 13.”

“Sharon.” Lewis clarifies. “Meg let the CIA thing go.”

“Lewis, on me.” Maggie unclips a gun from her hip. Darcy moves automatically, but realizes Maggie didn’t mean her. Maggie looks to the Asgardians. “I suppose you’ll be coming as well?”

“Aye.” Sif shares a look with Hogun, then moves to the door with the two SHIELD agents. 

“So where are we going?” Jane keeps one eye on Meg’s security feed. 

“I really expected for there to be a phone or something in my bag.” Darcy brushes her fingers against the pouch still strapped her body. It contains her pager, but at this point continuing to ping Tony isn’t smart. She’s safe, and if he’s getting them he at least knows she’s back.

Jane steps closer, and speaks lowly. “He took a lot of stuff out, after all of this. Phones can be tracked, and after Ultron he’s not trusting his own tech. Not with you at least, because you’d have no idea about what happened.” 

“Don’t remind me. You probably know more about tech stuff than I do right now. I mean, look at how thin these tablets are. Oh hell, I sound like a grandma.” Darcy groans.

“Other things would have sent a signal to the closest Avenger. I think you had directions to a couple of Clint and Natasha’s safe houses in there. Keys to all of Tony’s properties that Friday couldn’t get you into. But those are all under government surveillance now, and Clint and Natasha were on Steve’s side by the end of things.” Jane stands firm when Darcy leans against her. “The bag is a lot emptier than it had been.”

“I need to find Tony.” Darcy tells her. She pauses, mouth open, at a gentle vibration at her wrists. “Tony.”

It happens again.

“Darce?”

Darcy looks down at her wrists. When she touches one of the bangles, the metal finish fades and instead a screen appears. It’s coordinates. Her laugh comes out as more a cry, and Jane wraps an arm around her waist tightly.

Darcy tips her wrist towards Jane.

“Okay.” Jane squeezes Darcy. “We’ll go find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's it for today. Thanks to all who commented over the past week, it kept me going while I was working through some stubborn parts. Also, I've made a tumblr account and started actually using it (somewhat badly), and I post stuff on there sometimes about new chapters or what's going on. I'm inkbert there too.
> 
> Because it's summer and I have real life stuff to do, and because I want to get this right, it's probably going to be another week before I post another chunk. Which might even include dun dun dun, the end.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! First off, please let me thank all of you who commented while waiting for me to post. I didn't get a single pushy comment, only encouraging ones that honestly help me push through a stressful period of writer's block. I ended up trashing about forty pages of this story and starting fresh, and I'm much more pleased with it. I hope that you enjoy the conclusion to this story, and again, thanks for the kind words and encouragement.
> 
> Also big thanks go to moseyrosie, my beta reader and the person who convinced me to start posting after much resistance on my part (years), and blue_magpie, who helped me get through my lingering writer's block on this last chunk, and also reined in my irresponsible use of commas.

It turns out that Asgardian healing is really, really effective. But it’s also intense as fuck. On Asgard she would have been confined to her home to rest.

The wound is healing incredibly quickly, but either the process or the medicine is draining her. Or maybe it’s still the effects of being separated from the energy. It had been rocketing her through time for years, so it makes sense that the side effects might stick around for more than a few hours.

She also gets the idea that this convalescence period is sacred or something, because every time she winces or shifts or sighs, Hogun and Sif look at her like she’s physically hurting them by not curling up in a blanket.

Darcy says as much to Jane, while the others are distracted by sorting through the piles of clothes Polly Dernier had arrived with. They’re going to make a run for an airfield, and that means the Asgardians can’t look so otherworldly.

“On Asgard a wounded warrior’s friends care for them,” Jane whispers as Sif holds up a pale blue sundress. Sif tugs at it, perhaps testing its strength, and it rips at the seam. She stuffs it back into the bag before anyone can notice. “It’s a given, and there is no shame in it. To the point that if you need something from someone who is wounded, you would go directly to one of their friends.”

“So I’m saying they aren’t my friends by trying to do things myself?”

“No. Friendship is different to them. Platonic relationships are as important as romantic ones. They would not expect you to recognize them as your friends that way, but they are my friends, and Thor’s. That means they have a duty to me, and to Thor. And since we are your friends, they will help me, and try to stand in his stead when it comes to you.”

Tim takes a pair of black leggings away from Sten and instead shoves a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into his hands.

“There’s something else.” Jane takes Darcy’s hand. “On Asgard you can give yourself over to your friends’ care. After a terrible injury or a trying time. And you definitely qualify. It would mean that we would stand between you and any trial, we would oversee your care, we would do whatever it took to give you what you need.”

“We can’t do that.” Darcy tells her, even though just stopping for a little while, just a little while, sounds so good.

“No. But it doesn’t mean that they don’t know that’s what should be happening. It bothers them.” Jane’s grip tightens. “It bothers me.”

“Stop. You are helping me.” Darcy looks around her apartment. How many times had she looked out these windows, wishing she had Jane? Wishing for home? The one from the past getting farther and farther from her each day, but the future, her future, still so unreachable. “More than you know.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you need. I know a lot is going on right now, but if you need to get out of here, if you need to get away, I will make it happen. You’ve got a place on Asgard waiting. You’ve got a choice, okay?”

“My choice has always been to help my friends.” Darcy squeezes Jane’s fingers one last time before letting go. “And my family.”

When they take to the streets, Darcy isn’t sure the change in wardrobe is accomplishing much.

Sif is really pulling off the whole boho look, in a long skirt and tank top, her hair in a braid. But she has no chill, and even though you can’t see the weapons she’s got hidden in a canvas Turnip the Beet grocery tote, she looks dangerous.

Sten is better. His beard is what does it. He’s got a whole poet lumberjack look going on, and his solemn, concerned expression fits.

Hogun? Hogun is giant, constantly wary, and looks so out of place in his t-shirt that they might as well give him his sword back. It doesn’t help that his default setting around Jane right now seems to be ‘touch her and I’ll make you regret being born.’ And that’s just what he says with his eyes.

When he gets the rest of his body into it, Darcy thinks she picks up on a little ‘I’ll braid your intestines like I braid my hair’.

Darcy’s hair is shoved up into a hat, and Jane’s wearing a blonde wig. Jane is also wearing boots that give her an extra four inches in height, apparently having learned to walk in heels.

Watching Jane get ready had been eye-opening for Darcy. She’d watched her friend talk quietly with Sif and Hogun while lacing up the side of a thin chainmail shirt. The piece was obviously fitted to Jane and it shined oddly in the light. It’s enchanted, like the Asgardian warriors’ armor.

Because Jane is one of them now. Asgardian. She speaks with a kind of assuredness that Darcy hadn’t heard from her before outside of a science binge. Jane doesn’t blink at the sight of Hogun sharpening a wicked looking blade or at the bag of explosives Polly drags into the room.

Jane has changed.

Walking down New York streets Darcy knows the bones of, it’s only more obvious.

The city is lost. People wander the streets; police and military stationed throughout. . Many businesses are closed, and helicopters pass overhead.

Darcy knows they’re headed to the cars Polly and Sharon had each arrived in. They’re heading south, to an airfield Maggie knows. From there, they’re headed to Andorra, a small country known for it’s skiing and friendly tax laws that have made it a haven since the seventies.  
It has no extradition, and that’s where the coordinates on Darcy’s arm cuffs put Tony.

Already feeling exhausted, Darcy is grateful that Tim is sticking close. He helps her navigate the busy sidewalks. People are out, at a loss for what to do with themselves or wanting to bear witness or holding signs.

There are signs in windows, too. _Ross is a Threat to Global Security_.

_Vets Against Ross._

_I Stand With Captain America_ is a popular one. So is _The End Is Here_.

_Down With the Accords!_

_Earth Needs the Avengers._

Tension is evident as the police try to keep order. They pass a woman yelling about a curfew.

Once, someone gets pushed and crashes into Hogun, who quickly steps in front of Jane to deflect the man. Tim’s hand is on Darcy’s hip as the man examines his scraped palms while still on his knees, then climbs to his feet.

His eyes meet Darcy’s, then flick over to Tim. “Sorry. I didn’t-“

Darcy watches the realization dawn. She sees this stranger recognize her on a street full of people.

She brings a finger to her lips.

He nods dazedly, then his eyes widen and he pats his pockets. Tim shifts, so one shoulder is in front of Darcy.

The stranger holds out his hands. A crinkled map and a small spiral notebook. “Take it. We’ve been mapping the checkpoints. And my buddy has a car, if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Darcy says, spurring Tim into movement. “We have a plan, but we’ll take the information.”

“We’d appreciate if you could keep this to yourself, at least until tomorrow morning.” Tim offers a hand to shake after stuffing the map and notebook into Darcy’s bag.

“Yeah, man. I mean, of course.” The man nods, still mostly looking at Darcy.

Sharon’s car is a blue Volvo wagon. They spread the map over the hood of the car and discuss how reliable it could be. The notebook is filled with phone numbers, most with a name and a location. _Greg – South of Knox_. There’s also a list of code words, checkpoint is traffic jam, regular patrol is riot.

If anyone is examining the messages people are sending in the New York area, these messages will seem normal.

Darcy leans against the side of the car, over warm and drained from the short walk. The corner mart across the street is open, but has many signs in the window. _Out of Ice, Out of Beer, Out of Smokes, Out of Canned Goods_. On the door there’s a peace sign. Next to that is a blue iris printed out and taped up.

“We’re ready.” Maggie leans next to Darcy, looking up at a trio of men yelling from a balcony.

“Tim’s going to ride with you, and we’re going to follow. Darcy?”

“She needs to rest.” Sten pushes his hand against the handle of the car door, then tries again when nothing happens.

Maggie yanks the car door open.

“Darcy can sleep in the back.” Jane calls as she climbs into the driver’s seat. Sif takes the passenger seat.

“Middle row.” Maggie corrects. “Someone could come through the back.”

Hogun frowns at that, then climbs into the back seat, peering over it to inspect the trunk area.

With a shrug, he crawls over the seat.

“Works for me.” Tim climbs into the back, and Sten follows, leaving the entire middle row for Darcy.

She doesn’t fight them on it, because it feels really good to stretch her legs out. The seats are plush, the tan fabric soft against her cheek. Maggie shuts the door, nodding at Darcy through the window.

As Jane pulls away, Darcy turns in her seat to look back at the corner shop and the iris.

Traffic crawls. People are pouring out of the city to get away from the riots. Or maybe the possibility of another alien attack. Darcy ends up curled under a jacket Tim had pulled out of a bag, with one of the air conditioning vents pointed at her face.

They keep the radio on, listening to news updates. New York City is under a curfew that starts at nine p.m. General Ross has been ordered to go to DC to explain his actions, but no one knows where he is.

Pepper Potts has scheduled a press conference in LA, with Hope Van Dyne, the CEO of Pym Technologies.

There are now more countries that have removed their names from the Accords than are still backing them. France, and many other nations, have declared the need to apologize to the Avengers along with a duty to provide the team the opportunity to reunite and heal the rifts caused by the international mistake that was the Accords.

Darcy drifts in and out of sleep and watches the view outside her window change.  
The map from the stranger is right about a checkpoint at the bridge. The sun is sinking in the sky, bathing them in pink light as a soldier in army green checks their car. He barely blinks at Hogun in the trunk.

Given what Darcy has seen packed in people's cars, from barbecue grills to dressers, she’s guesses there’s not much he hasn’t seen.

They’re waved through without a second glance, maybe because of the commotion being caused by a man refusing to let the soldiers inside his RV.

They aren’t as lucky at the third checkpoint, this one at another bridge. It’s dark, and the soldiers walk down both sides of the car, shining bright flashlights through the windshield.

The light that beams over Darcy’s face, making her squint, doesn’t keep moving.

“Miller?” Darcy hears through Jane’s rolled down window.

The man straightens, looking over his shoulder, the beam of his flashlight dipping to Darcy’s chest.

A woman bends, shining her own flashlight into the car. It moves over Jane and Sif, the front seat floorboards, and then Sten before pausing briefly on Darcy’s face. Darcy squints against the light, trying to read the woman’s expression. Tim’s hand is heavy on her shoulder.

Darcy puts a hand on Tim’s, and the soldier’s eyes follow the movement.

“You good here, ma’am?” The soldier asks.

Darcy nods, words deserting her.

The woman stares at Darcy for a half second, then stands.

“I’d avoid the checkpoint east on Interstate 278.” The woman walks away, the sound of her boots crunching on the gravel of the shoulder audible in the silent car.

The first soldier motions with his arm. “All clear! Please move the vehicle forward, ma’am.”

“Drive, Foster.” Tim instructs, pushing Darcy’s head down with his hand on the back of her neck.

But no one comes after them, and the minivan the others are in is cleared quickly, their headlights catching up.

They drive for another hour before they reach the airfield.

It’s dark, with less than half it’s lights on. Darcy would guess at fifteen or twenty people, but there could be more she can’t see.

They’re Maggie’s people, and immediately fall into line around her. Speed seems to be the name of the game, and a sleek black plane waits on the runway.

Darcy can feel a lot of eyes on her. Most of them don’t look away when she looks around.

Maggie barks a reprimand, and they all find something else to do.

Darcy doesn’t care. People can look. Hell, everyone is looking. From what little she’d seen on TV, her entire life is fodder for the world. Fuck them.

She walks up the ramp of the plane with Jane at her side, and once she’s on board, she tries the arm cuff again. The same coordinates pop up.

While the others prep the jet for flight, Sten motions her over to the back row of seats. She rolls up the bottom of her shirt, and Sten starts pulling her bandages free. He’d been less than impressed at their quality.

To distract herself from the nasty sizzle Sten’s magic goop makes, Darcy looks around the plane. There are outlets everywhere, and besides the bench seats at the back, there are swivel seats. Everything is sleek.

Sure enough, when Sharon opens the door to the cockpit, it’s all smooth screens, blue lights, and a roomy cabin with leather seats. Sten presses against her side firmly, and Darcy winces.

Up in the cockpit, Tim and Sharon are flipping switches and starting the engines.

Beyond the initial thrum, Darcy can’t hear it or feel it.


	43. Chapter 43

Her naps in the car are likely to blame for her inability to sleep through the night. Darcy wakes in the quiet cabin to find Jane beside her, one of those clip on book lights clipped to her hair.

“You look like one of those fish, uh, anglerfish.”

Jane turns to look at her, the light bobbing. “I missed your weird facts.”

“Mmmph.” Darcy swallows against her dry throat. She’s tired of waking up feeling hungover without getting to have any of the fun. “I missed your face.”

Jane taps Darcy’s arm with a half full bottle of water. Darcy accepts it, stretching and looking around the plane. Hogun is sleeping in the aisle, and Darcy can see a few more lumps in the dim light cast from the cracked door to the cockpit.

The low murmur of voices draws her gaze to the back of the plane, where she sees Meg and Sharon lit by Meg’s laptop screens. Meg is insistent, and Sharon is shaking her head. Darcy drops back low in her seat.

There’s a pile of... scrolls. There is a pile of scrolls in Jane’s lap. Jane tips the one she’s got unrolled towards Darcy. The ink shimmers, and Darcy’s eyes trace intricate illustrations of constellations she’s never seen before and a cityscape along the left margin.

She feels the slightest twinge of uneasiness, whereas before everything about Asgard had fascinated her. It’s just that the stars have been a constant for her, all these years. Unchanging, fixed in the sky above her, the same ones she’d taught Steve, and picked out of the sky like a game with Rebecca out at the country house, and helped JJ scribble with crayons.

Darcy shakes it off before Jane notices, focusing on the rest of the scroll.

There’s a lot of writing, in tiny print, and it looks somewhat similar to hieroglyphs, calligraphy style.

“You can read this?”

“Mostly. It’s really complicated, and I’ve been pretty busy. But I wanted to learn, to prove Thor right.” Jane shrugs, rolling the scroll back up. “There are doubters other than the king that think I won't be able to be a good queen.”

Jane’s hand makes a fist around a gold pendant Darcy doesn’t recognize. “I mostly worked on it in between doing the energy research, but then Tony and I realized we were both working on finding you and teamed up. All my time went to that.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Not for that.” Jane shoves the scrolls into a red bag Hogun had been carrying. “Especially when I can tell that you are so not okay.”

“This? I’ll-“

“And I’m not talking about the bullet wound.” Jane interrupts.

“Call me on my shit why don’t you, Jane Theodore.” Darcy mutters, but pats Jane’s knee. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I just need to find Tony.”

“Not Steve?” Jane asks hesitantly, and then continues when Darcy only looks down at the water bottle now in her lap. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. There just isn’t very much about the two of you. Two pictures and a marriage license. A couple interviews, but I know how people can be about getting on TV.”

“I did love him, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Darcy shifts, ignoring the way her side protests. “It’s just- I need to see Tony. This doesn’t even seem real most of the time. If I see Tony, I’ll know it’s real. I know that sounds crazy, but that’s where I am right now.”

“Okay.” Jane whispers. “Okay. Do you want to get some more sleep?”

“No. I think I’m going to head up to the cockpit. See what exciting advances in the field of aviation I’ve missed.” Darcy stands. Now nerves dance along her spine. Nervous energy zings through her veins. She feels like she’s one false step from breaking in half, cracking right open, a mess of exposed nerve endings and a throbbing, broken heart.

Jane follows silently, and they skirt carefully around Hogun.

In the cockpit, Tim is happy to explain everything to Darcy. Some things she already knows, others she just needs a refresher, and some are completely new and freaking awesome.

Darcy immerses herself. Peggy had been right about staying busy. And all of the controls, the strange way the engines propel the plane since they aren’t fixed in place, it’s all a handy way to keep her brain busy.

Jane brews a pot of coffee. After an hour Tim hands the controls off to Darcy and reclines in his seat. Hogun joins them, his sleepiness making him seem to glare.

Another hour’s passing finds Tim showing off. He can catch whatever Lewis throws at him, and even gets Hogun in on it.

“Could have gone pro tennis, won state in high school.” Lewis explains. “Went to Juilliard though, for piano. Made his mama cry, and he plays for her over the phone now, once a week. Total mama’s boy.”

“And proud of it.” Tim catches the shoe Lewis throws at him behind his back, then snags the cell phone Hogun throws. He has to drop both into the pile accumulating at his feet to catch the earphones and paperback book Lewis throws immediately after.

The door to the cabin slides open and Meg takes in the scene. “Oh, good. They started up the circus again. Did Lewis show you-“

“Girl, don’t think I won’t tell your dad about that loose floorboard in your room.” Lewis says, hand clamped over her mouth. Meg’s eyes narrow and flash dangerously.

“Can we try for a smidgen of professionalism here, guys?” Maggie squeezes behind Meg, her curls now tied back with a blue headscarf. “At least until she realizes you have actual skills. Tell me Lewis didn’t do the cheeto eyebrow dance thing.”

“She didn’t know about that until now, thanks.” Lewis releases Meg and wipes his hand on his pants.

“We need more coffee.” Maggie looks around the cockpit. Lewis salutes her, grabs his empty mug from the pile of Tim’s catches, and heads back towards the pot. Maggie holds out a tablet to Darcy. “There are a few things you should see. Hope van Dyne and Pepper Potts just moved Pym Technologies and Stark Industries’ headquarters temporarily to France. The stock market crashed.”

Darcy tries flicking the video up onto the windshield, and grins when it works. It turns out working with Tony prepared her for living in the future better than she’d thought.

“I’m in love with her.” Polly sighs, leaning against the back of Darcy’s chair as Pepper Potts stands at a podium, speaking over the shouts of the media representatives.

“You’re in love with Amanda, and you’re never allowed to break up with her because I’m in love with her Nan’s banana nut cookies.” Meg corrects. “Are you guys still fighting over the Wagoneer? I’ll buy her a new car, just stop fighting. Where will I go for Christmas?”

“You’re not buying her a new car, she wanted that abomination, she’ll live with it. And don’t think I don’t know it was you who issued that recall on ’87 Grand Wagoneers purchased in North Carolina but now in Arizona.” Polly dodges Meg’s kick without taking her eyes off the screen. “And we’re fine. Now shh before Maggie separates us.”

“You are all worse than my children.” Maggie accepts a steaming coffee cup from Lewis as Darcy clicks over to another video, this one showing a woman with a short, dark bob standing in front of a glass walled skyscraper. Hope van Dyne, the news feed says, CEO of Pym Technologies.

“Amanda’s in love with her.” Polly offers Darcy a small bowl of trail mix. “We like to watch their press releases and root for them to get together. I bet Amanda’s flipping out now that they’re actually working together. It could happen.”

Darcy controls the urge to grimace. From afar, Pepper and Tony had seemed so well matched. And once she saw them together, admittedly before they’d actually gotten together, Pepper had been such a good force in Tony’s life.

That didn’t mean Tony was a force for good in Pepper’s, but Darcy might have a hard time letting Pepper go.

“van Dyne would definitely treat her-“

“Tony is my brother.” Darcy interrupts Lewis, unable to help herself. And she’s not sorry. “More, he’s a man that saved New York and possibly the world. He is a man that is loyal to his friends, who has publicly worked to change because he wasn’t happy with who he was, he is a man who tries to do what is right.”

Jane sets a hand on Darcy’s knee.

“When your grandfathers needed better care than what existed at the time, he funded new research programs. You don’t have to like him, but in my presence, you do have to respect him.”

“There’s something else.” Maggie says in the new silence. “Someone released the files grandma kept on you. Everything she had on you, all of the evidence of your existence that she smothered, official timelines including the dates you arrived and left. I thought you should know.”

Darcy flicks over to a search page, types in her name.

The people dissecting Peggy’s files know more about Darcy than Darcy does, it seems. It only adds to how surreal everything feels to Darcy right now. There are people out there writing features on her tragic romance with Steve, remarking on how if the lab accident had occurred only a year later, Darcy would have gone back in time knowing that Captain America was recovered from the Arctic Ocean and lived. Twelve months, they marvel.

Andrea Grunheldt with the New York Times writes that Darcy spent six years and ninety-seven days in the past. Darcy had never counted, maybe because she didn’t really want to know.

Brandon Smith at the Huffington Post writes that Darcy and Steve are divorced according to New York state abandonment laws, and Keith Welker writes a rebuttal detailing that the abandonment must be committed willingly and not due to military deployment.

There is a photo series that focuses only on Darcy and Rebecca’s friendship. Another that aims to depict Darcy as a member of the Stark family, justifying the fact that when Darcy ‘arrived’ she automatically inherited a third of Stark Industries-

“What?” Darcy straightens. “Go back. A third? A third of SI?”

“I thought you would have seen that already.”

“No. Jesus, Tony.” Darcy turns off the screen. “How long until we get there?”

“I can’t give you a solid estimate. We’re going to have to land at some point, unless we want to explain our presence in France’s airspace.” Maggie takes the tablet back. “I’ve got contacts in France keeping an eye on things so we can find a good route.”

“Hey guys, we’ve got incoming!” Tim is suddenly all business.

“Paired with the change in barometric pressure out there, and those impressive storm clouds, I’m going to guess it’s Thor.” Meg leans forward, pressing a button on the communications panel. “Unidentified aircraft, please state your intentions and identify yourself.”

“I am Vision, accompanied by Thor. We search for Dr. Jane Foster.”

Darcy figures it’s good she was already sitting. Because it’s Jarvis’ voice.

Tim turns to look at Jane, then Maggie. After a nod from Maggie, he motions Jane towards the dash.

“Hello, Vision. This is Jane.”


	44. Chapter 44

They put down in a dusty airfield in France.

Darcy ends up standing on the worn tarmac, watching the clouds overhead. The others clear the area and get the plane hidden away inside the rusted hangar.

There’s a sudden rumble of thunder, and then lightning strikes across the sky as the other airplane becomes visible through the clouds.

The air takes on a scent that Darcy knows. Burnt ozone. Electricity. The tiny hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand on end. She feels the echo of a long ago thrill, excitement, happiness, wonder.

She’d once stood in the desert and watched Thor come in. In the middle of the storm in the empty expanse of the flats, kept safe by her friend. She turns, looking for Jane.

They are the only two left standing in the middle of the tarmac. They are also the only two left untouched by the downpour Darcy only notices now. Jane is jogging closer, and when she reaches Darcy she holds out a hand.

Darcy takes it, and Jane weaves their fingers together and squeezes tight. Together they watch the plane descend. It’s much bigger than their own plane, and it moves strangely. Darcy can’t bring herself to focus enough to make any guesses about propulsion or speed.

She does notice that it’s unaffected by the lightning dancing over it. Handy.

Thor’s cape snaps in the wind, vibrant in the gray of the storm. He looks every bit a god, striding across the tarmac, something about him promising vengeance. But when he reaches Darcy, everything about him is gentle.

At first Thor is cautious, and he only holds out his hand for hers. It’s like with Jane, Darcy almost expects her hand to go right through his. But he’s solid, warm, and his hand curls around hers.

Darcy ends up hugging him, surrounded by his familiar and so very missed bulk.

“Little lightning sister. You have been wronged.” Thor says. “As I searched the realms for you, I hoped you were still alive for us to find. And I knew that if you were, you would be fighting and living with your whole heart. As always, my faith in you was not misplaced.”

Darcy just holds him tighter. Jane joins them, and a part of Darcy aches for simpler times inside the research van. Introducing Thor to YouTube, cool desert nights, and the three of them bumbling along.

When she pulls away, she’s introduced to Vision. He’s tall, red, and he watches her carefully while he speaks with Jarvis’ voice. Darcy finds that if she looks away while he’s speaking, it only increases the feeling that this is all a dream.

He volunteers to search for a vehicle for them, and phases through the roof of the hangar.

They scatter inside the hangar, after the hours they’ve spent in tight quarters. Darcy climbs into the bed of a rusted work truck that likely hasn’t moved in decades. There’s a piece of paper in one corner, with black ink, but when she tries to pick it up it falls apart.

Someone has shrink-wrapped sandwiches. Lewis had told Darcy that Polly always has food in her bag, so it was probably her. Darcy only knows that Thor shows up to join her in the bed of the truck with two subs.

She’d once taken shelter from a storm on a small airfield in France with Gabe and Falsworth. They’d played gin to distract Gabe, who was close to pulling his hair out with worry since they’d gotten word that Grace had gone into labor early.

Darcy is trying to remember enough about that place to decide if it’s likely this is the same place. But it had been dark, and they’d wrapped Falsworth’s shirt around the flashlight to dim its light so they didn’t give their position away.

It’s not likely. But she’s here with two of Gabe’s grandkids.

A heavy arm wraps around her shoulder, and Thor pulls her closer to lean against him. “Be at ease, sister. You have many that would fight in your stead so that you may rest after your long trials. And I learned the hard way that there is no shame in that.”

“I feel like the only thing I know how to do is fight now.” Darcy confesses. She might not know how to stop anymore, she’s been pushing herself to keep going so long.

“I know.” Thor takes her sandwich and cuts it into thirds with a flimsy plastic knife that bends precariously. He leaves only one-third on her plate, which suddenly looks much more appetizing and manageable. She’s being wrangled. She’d taught him these tricks. “I have seen the look in your eyes in my mirror. I have yearned for another battle, someone to fight, a purpose that is both defined and morally obvious to me.”

That sounds about right. And sitting here with Jane and Thor, it makes her feel like a stranger.

“Place your trust in your friends.” Thor advises softly. “In myself and Jane. When you are lost, the people your heart has chosen will keep you on your path.”

“And in sandwiches.” Darcy deflects.

Thor only smiles. “Aye. You have only to ask, and it shall be yours. Should you desire it, I would take you to Asgard to recover in peace.”

His smile dims, and he looks around the dim hangar. “Midgard prepares poorly for a battle the magnitude of which they cannot begin to imagine.”

“And I’ll be here, doing what I can.” Darcy holds out her plate for another third of her sandwich.

“You have changed.” Thor leans back on his elbows, looking for all the world to be completely at ease. “But not in the ways that you are afraid of.”

A short while later, Maggie holds up a hand and all conversation stops. Darcy listens carefully, and she does hear something outside the hangar. But it could just as easily be the breeze, or a bird.

Jane stands next to Sif, and Darcy spots a gold handled knife in her hand. Jane’s fingers twirl it once, in a smooth, practiced motion. Future queen of Asgard, Darcy reminds herself, pressing the metallic stone in her ring so that the taser is ready to go.

Meg moves over to one wall, where the rusted metal has buckled leaving a small crack.

“Well. What do you know.” Meg slams her back against the wall and smiles sourly. “It’s the CIA.”

“Or Hydra dressed as them.” Sharon counters, gun unholstered and ready at her side.

Vision comes up through the floor, everyone other than Thor jumps in surprise.

“There are men approaching from the north with guns.” He looks around. “But it appears you are already aware.”

“We’ll have to distract them. Without killing them.” Maggie tempers, shooting a look at her team. “And Sharon can’t help, she might need her contacts later.”

“Or want her job back.” Sharon adds, ignoring Meg’s snort.

“Alright, Tim, Sharon, with Rogers. The rest of you, distract and disarm.”

Vision leads them down a rocky hill, Darcy scrambling to keep up as her side throbs. Thor plucks her up with one arm, hunching over her as they hurry to get out of sight. Vision flies backwards, watching their backs.

Tim grins at an explosion. “Subtle, Polly.”

They pile into a brown delivery truck labeled Gauthier Transportuer that’s parked just around a curve in the road, Vision starting it by reaching straight into the ignition.


	45. Chapter 45

Sharon is driving, and Tim is riding at the very back of the truck with Hogun. Jane and Thor are sleeping while Sif rides in front with Sharon.

Darcy is meant to be sleeping as well, but she’s not tired. As best as she can figure, she’s hours away from Tony. That knowledge has her wired with energy.

She plays with the bangles on her wrist. She says his name again, and the same coordinates fill the display. Quietly, with a pounding heart, she whispers Steve’s name. Nothing happens.

She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the fight. Zemo had probably planned to use it just like he had the recording of Howard and Maria’s deaths. To incite rage and pain.

They hadn’t been pulling any punches. When Steve had raised that shield over his head, she’d been afraid. Even though she knows Tony survived, that image with haunt her dreams. Along with Maria’s hoarse, terrified cry for Howard.

The quiet metallic sound, followed steady clinking, draws her eyes to her hands, which are now encased in metal plates. Shock chases away the urge to, well, punch something. She turns her hands palm up, staring at the individual plates that run up each of her finger, letting out a slow breath.

The arm cuff looks no different. Not any smaller. Which makes her wonder if it can go up her arm as well. Which would be creepy as fuck, to be swallowed up by metal. She lets out another breath, then shakes her hands.

The metal plates retreat, folding in on themselves until she’s left with only the arm cuff again. She drops her hands back into her lap. Another thing to talk to Tony about, on a list that’s so long she’ll go mad thinking about any of it.

“Do you sleep?” She asks Vision, when she catches his eye for the third time in as many minutes. Maybe he needs a distraction just as much as she does, and she feels bad for being weirded out by him. Besides, if there’s a little bit of Jarvis in there, Darcy owes it to the AI to show a little kindness. If there’s a lot of the AI in there? That would be a whole other thing.

“I do not require sleep, in the same way that humans do.” He says quietly. “However, I have recently discovered that my mind does benefit from a respite from wakefulness.”

“So before that, you’d been awake for months?”

“Yes. Initially I did attempt sleeping to see if it had any physical effect. When it did not, I ceased the activity.”

“Huh. And for the past couple months you’ve been figuring things out? Trying new stuff?”

“I have been searching for Wanda.”

“Wanda.” Darcy repeats as he looks away.

“Did you know that I am the one responsible for Colonel Rhodes’ injuries?”

“There were some files. I read that it was a mistake. Friendly fire.” When he looks at her again, his guilt is obvious. As is his confusion.

“I did not think I was capable of making that kind of mistake.” He looks down at his hands. “I do not know what I am. I must face the real possibility that I am a danger to my teammates and those I...”

“Wanda.” Darcy touches his knee. “You care for her.”

“Perhaps. I – Yes. I care.” The mechanisms in his eyes spin, narrowing his pupils. “I had hoped to find her. To study the phenomena and gather data, to understand. But maybe it is for the best that I failed.”

“Dude. You’ve gotta lighten up, okay?” Darcy pats his knee again. “Most people don’t take on trying to figure out the meaning of their existence for a few decades at least. You live, you breathe-“

“Actually-“

“Nope. You have a heart? You think. You have just as much a right to be here as the rest of us, bumbling along, having crushes,-“

“Crushes? I think you misunderstand-“

“Nope. Having crushes, figuring out how much sleep you need, making mistakes, and trying your best. Okay?”

“There are others who do not share your views.”

“Oh believe me, I know.” Darcy sighs. “And you too have a right to your own opinions, but please, try for me to make them good ones, okay?”

“I remember you. I have Jarvis’ memories, if you would like to simplify it and call them that. Darcy Barnes. Clause thirty-three. Antonia Maria Stark-“

“Antonia? Are you fucking serious?”

His lips curve into a small smile.

Darcy shakes her head. Antonia. Tony is an asshole. “Well, that’s kind of cool, I think. That you remember me from back then, since I remember part of you.”

“You helped build me. You programmed Jarvis.”

“I helped program Jarvis. Here and there. I kind of blipped out for a good chunk of the process.”

“So you could be considered one of my creators. Helen Cho has been called my mother, and Tony my father.”

“Huh. What do you think about that? Do you see Helen and Tony as parental figures?”

“I do not...think so. Although Helen has been very helpful understanding the biological parts of my physical form.”

“But definitely a no on the Daddy Stark?” Darcy studies his expression. “Or are we talking daddy issues?”

“I do not know how to reconcile my creation and my day to day life.” He turns more towards her. “But you had a hand in creating me. You wrote the code that built Jarvis, that gave him guidance and agency. You gave him ethics. And some form of that exists in me today.”

“What do you want from me here?”

“Guidance.”

Darcy leans back against the boxes as the truck bumps over a pothole. She looks around the truck bed. Tim and Hogun are actually talking, their voices a low rumble. Jane and Thor are sleeping curled together, Jane drooling on Thor’s chest.

“I met Tony when he was twelve.” Darcy tells him. “He was, as you probably already know, uncommonly intelligent. A prodigy, when it came to computers and machines. He was also emotionally withdrawn, spoiled, and lonely.”

Vision says nothing, watching her steadily and waiting for her to make her point.

“Maria Stark was the one who decided to introduce us. Before that, I had never seen Howard’s son. But after Rebecca died, I was lost in my grief. And Maria saw that we were both lost and hurting, I think, and she introduced us and told us we were siblings. Right off the bat. That we would take care of each other.”

“So,” Darcy continues, her voice a little husky with emotion, “he was twelve, and I was hurting. And after JJ and Andrew, Tony came. I couldn’t be what I had been, and so with Tony I became something else. We grew together. Maybe you grew with us. I feel like Tony and I, we’ve been elbow deep in each other’s code.”

Vision’s head tilts.

“If you want, when I see Tony I’ll tell him you’re our brother.”

“A synthetic life form-“

“Nope.” Darcy grins. “Dude, do I have to tell you, too? Is there that much Stark in you?”

“I am not certain I can handle the emotional aspect of a sibling relationship. I cannot, after all, properly consume alcohol.”

“Oh, Vision throwing some shade over here.”

He actually ducks his head to hide a smile. Darcy thinks he looks pleased.

“It’s too late now. You’re stuck with us.” Darcy tells him. “Your first brotherly duty is to tell me important news that won’t give me nightmares. I know, I know, what new Disney movies are there? Tell me there wasn’t another Shrek. Oh, fuck. Tell me there is another Finding Nemo.”

Vision puts a hand on her wrist, quieting her as he looks up towards the roof of the truck.

Darcy reaches for her taser and Thor shifts, hand wrapping around the handle of Mjolnir. Not as asleep as she’d thought.

“It’s Tony.” Vision speaks loudly enough to be heard at both ends of the truck. “He was able to lock onto the signal your arm cuffs put out.”

Darcy flips their position, now gripping his wrist. Probably too tightly. “Can you get me up there?”

“Yes.”

Darcy looks to Jane, who is looking right back. “I’ll see you there?”

“See you there.” Jane responds, with a tremulous smile.

Soon Darcy is clinging to edge of the open door, trying to keep her hair out of her mouth as the road flies by beneath them. They’ve got a short window before the road straightens again and they’ll have the eyes of the other drivers on them.

“How would you like me to carry you?” Vision asks, somewhat awkwardly. If she wasn’t jumping out of her damn skin at the thought of seeing Tony, she’d think it was adorable. He motions to her legs, bending a bit. “I could,”

He breaks off and makes a scooping motion with one arm.

“I would prefer the whole don’t know how to dance thing?” Darcy wraps an arm around his neck and puts one of her feet on his. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course.”

Lift off is a lot smoother than she’d expected. It’s almost jarring simply because it’s not.

“Can you see him?” Vision asks, nodding his head to one side.

Darcy can’t, it’s dark again and the sky is black. But she holds out one arm, like that could bring him faster.

And then she does see him. What had looked like just another trio of stars becomes a pair of eyes and a glowing chest. Rocketing closer.

When he reaches them, Darcy falls against him. The metal of his suit is hard and cold compared to Vision, and there aren’t any places to easily grip. But he wraps both arms around her, and that stops her from slipping.

The gold face place flips up and there he is. He looks thinner. More tired. Older, but not as much as she was afraid of.

It takes her too long to be able to focus on his words, and he’s looking at Vision by the time she makes them out.

“Is she okay?”

“Fine.” Darcy touches his cheek, and his dark eyes snap back to her. Eyes she knows. “I’m fine. Just really needed you. You do remember me right?”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “Remember you? Why, did something happen to make me forget?”

Darcy just shakes her head.

“Okay. Okay.” He looks around. “Look, let's get back to the homestead before someone figures out we’re up here.”


	46. Chapter 46

“What is this place?” Darcy follows Tony across a tiny tiled balcony to the door. Vision lands just behind her.

“It’s not ideal, but it works.” Tony opens the door, revealing a cramped living room that looked to be straight from the seventies. “No! No! It’s me. We talked about this. Don’t spray Darcy either.”

“DUM-E.” Darcy squeezes around Tony to greet the bot. “Look at you. You’ve still got the fire extinguisher. You’ve been keeping Tony safe, huh? Thank you, buddy. Good job.”

“No.” Tony shakes his head, pointing at Darcy as he steps out of the suit. Despite the fact that he's definitely more muscular than he had been over a decade ago, he's also too thin. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he wears his exhaustion like a second layer of clothes. “No. Stop that. Stop encouraging him.”

U beeps and his motor whirs, and DUM-E rolls backwards, one of his wheels rubbing along the wall in the tight quarters. Every wall that Darcy can see has black marks from the bots’ wheels. U pokes her in the stomach repeatedly with his claw.

“Careful.” Darcy warns, passing her hand over his motor casing. “I’m hurt there.”

“No!” Tony shouts, hand up and cramming himself between Darcy and DUM-E. “Does she look like she’s on fire? Then that won’t help.”

DUM-E lowers his extinguisher with a sad sounding beep.

“Just- Come on.” Tony takes her arm, lightly tugging her forward. “And watch your step if you go off the path. Everything on the path is taped down for those two idiots, but- Damn it, what is this? Who did this?”

They’re in another cramped room. This one has a crude hole in the wall, like Tony climbed in the suit and just started punching until it was big enough to walk through. Cables and wires run through the bottom of the hole. In the next room, Darcy can see more computers and screens, intermixed with the furniture that appeared to have been here when Tony arrived.

Darcy takes another look around, bending a little to peer down a hallway that looks to end at the kitchen. There are old rugs on the floor, and what furniture that has been left in place is also old and worn. There are bookcases and black and white pictures of strangers. Most everything is coated in a fine layer of dust, and a not so fine layer of broken plaster.

“Tony, where are we?”

“This actually kind of works.” Tony motions with a cable. “I mean, it’s stupid, but it works.”

“Tony. Where are we? Who lives here?”

“What? Oh. No one.” He starts throwing things off of an armchair covered in mauve velvet. “Do you need to sit? You should sit.”

“Tony.” Darcy waits until he looks at her, then points a finger and moves it in a slow circle. Because the apartment is pretty much destroyed. There are small holes in the ceilings for wires to run through, there had been a fire in one corner, and the wood floor has been pulled up along one side of the hallway.

“It was my grandad’s place.” Tony’s eyes dart around. “I came here a couple times with mom. He hated dad.”

“Julian?”

“Yeah. Stuck up asshole. Moved here in the late seventies so he could hide his money.” Tony motions to the windows, where beyond the tidy street of apartment buildings snow covered mountains kept silent sentry. “Plus, have you seen the view?”

“No one will look for you here?” Darcy toes a copper coil out of the way, stepping closer to him.

“You know no one cared about mom. And if they did, it was only because of the ‘abandoned by her father as a child that’s why she’s so immoral’ angle. No one ever bothered to find out who he was, or that he came back around eventually.” Tony leans over to tap at the buttons on a keyboard screwed into the wall. “Besides, he died in ’94 and no one has managed to track this place down or connect it to him.”

Vision floats into the room, apparently deciding hovering a few inches above the floor is safer than walking. U rolls over to him, attempting to poke him in the stomach. Instead, U’s claw goes straight through Vision’s stomach and the bot emits a high toned sound of alarm.

“Be nice, Vision.” Darcy examines the bread of a sandwich sitting on a plate with four bolts and two hex screws. It’s practically halfway fossilized. She knocks it into what looks like a trash can.

“Nice of you to stop by, by the way.” Tony says, watching as U attempts to poke Vision again. The bot balks twice before actually following through, and when his claw actually connects, it makes another alarmed sound. Tony rolls his eyes. “Where have you been? Gap year? Mission trip? Or did you find-”

“Stop being a jerk, Tony.” Darcy interrupts before he can go too far. “Tony, he’s your brother.”

“What? No.” Tony laughs. “You don’t get to do that. That was a one-time deal, Mom did it, and just no. No.”

“Darcy, that is unnecessary.” Vision says. “Tony is-“

“Your brother. I did a good speech about it earlier, growing together, shit fan, codes, stuff like that, but that’s gone now and don’t you two push me, okay?” Darcy shoves a hand through her hair. “I mean. Tony.”

Tony’s eyes widen from the glare he had been giving Vision. “Hey. Hey. Whatever, it’s fine. Sure, why not. He’s mostly Stark anyway. C’mon. Tell her, Vision.”

“Yes. That connection will be as good as any other to explain our convoluted relationship.” Vision catches her elbow and gently guides her to the chair.

“Steve?” Darcy’s hand clenches around Vision’s wrist and he stills. Because this is the moment. Her heart clenches painfully in her chest, she can’t breathe, and this, this moment is going to change the course of her life. “Is he really – You’ve seen him. Is it really him? Is it true?”

“Is what true? That Rogers is-“

“Flamingo.” Vision says firmly.

“What?” Tony’s rant comes to an abrupt stop.

“Flamingo.” Vision repeats, carefully wrapping an arm around Darcy’s shoulders, like he’s not sure he’s doing it right. “That was the safe word the two of you established on July 17th, 2004 to stop unwanted direction or details in conversation. Now, answer her questions about the husband she has been told is alive decades after she thought he had died.”

“What- Shit.” Tony sits on the arm of her chair, “Shit. Darcy. Sorry. What? What do you need?”

“I know what was printed in the news, and in the released SHIELD files. I don’t know if it’s actually him. Is it really him? Is he the same?” Darcy stops there, releasing a shaking breath.

“It’s really him. One hundred percent confirmed. I don’t know if he’s the same as he was.” Tony trails off, simply sliding into the chair with her when her shoulders start shaking, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Why am I crying like this? It’s not like someone died. The o- opposite.”

“It’s a common reaction to shock or emotional trauma. You may also experience-“

“Flamingo.” Tony says on a sigh, ending Vision’s explanation.

Once she’s staved off something she’s really starting to suspect is an anxiety attack, Tony suggests food and moving the party into the upstairs study. It’s the least touched of all the rooms Darcy has seen, despite the bundle of cables running straight up through the middle of the room, and the two holes that entailed.

She eats both her own frozen burrito, and the one she insisted Vision try. He spits out his first and only bite.

Darcy peppers them with questions about the Steve they know. Tony acts cagey as fuck several times, and it only increases her anxiety, and her fear that something is wrong. Other than the whole big bad headed for Earth to possibly end all life. Honestly, she can’t even bring herself to really care about that. It’s abstract to her.

She’s about to demand he just spit it out when a series of alarms go off. A yellow light starts flashing, followed by a wailing siren. It nearly scares Darcy out of her skin, and the arm cuffs unfold again, covering her hands. She looks down at them, then at Tony.

“Yeah, we’ve got to talk about this shit right here.”

“Someone crossed the perimeter.” Tony says, standing quickly.

“Maybe it’s the others? If they drove fast?” Darcy suggests hopefully. She’s tired of running. She shakes her hands, trying to make the metal gloves recede, but then another set of alarms start going, and she gives up.

“That’s the north side of the building.” Tony calls back to them, already headed towards his suit.

A tense fifteen minutes later they’re admitting Dr. Banner into the apartment. He looks nothing like his staff picture at Culver. He’s scruffy, dressed in baggy clothes, and has a chin full of stubble.

His hands are jammed awkwardly in his pockets as he looks around the narrow hallway. His eyes follow along some of the wires stuck to the walls like spider webs.

“Frankly I thought you’d be more tanned.” Tony says as the face plate goes up.

“I’ve been looking for you for two months, ever since I checked the news and saw... everything.” Dr. Banner clumsily catches the nozzle of DUM-E’s extinguisher and points it away.

“Yeah, yeah. We broke up the gang. International fugitives-“

“You and Pepper broke up?” Bruce cuts him off. He clearly knows how to deal with Tony. And is concerned about more than just Iron Man.

“You can stay.” Darcy declares, stepping out of the half bath she’d ducked into. It offered her both the chance at a surprise attack, and also an escape route through the crescent shaped window if it came to that.

“Darcy.” Bruce’s eyes widen, then he straightens, like someone had jabbed him with a pin. “I’m sorry, that was very informal of me. We haven’t met.”

“Same circles.” Darcy shrugs, holding out a hand. Bruce shakes her hand with much of the same hesitance to touch that Vision had. These guys are going to kill her. Darcy uses her light grip on his hand to pull him a little bit closer, giving him a quick one-armed hug. He smells like tea, sweat, and aftershave.

“Brucie, this is Darcy. Darcy, Brucie.” Tony turns and leads the way back down the hall, shooing DUM-E and U out of the way, the metal boots of the suit crunching over bits of plaster. “I have all your shit, by the way. From when you flounced.”

“Is he okay?” Bruce motions for Darcy to proceed him through the arched doorway. He grimaces and scratches the side of his neck. “Are you okay? I saw- Lots of things.”

“We’re all a mess here. It’s like a theme.” Darcy watches Tony first step back out of the suit, then flip open a rolling suitcase and pull out three bottles of whiskey. “Ah yes, emotional healing.”

“No.” Tony shakes his head, kicking a rolling table topped with a stack of tablets so it rolls into the side of the musty green couch. “We’re skipping right over the Stark method of avoiding our problems, and getting right to solving them. Due to time constraints. Over-aggressive blue faced rock collector up there and frankly unacceptable living situations and what not. I’m pretty sure Thor said he was blue.”

Darcy’s stomach flips over. A part of her wants to say that she’s had enough of solving her problems and she wants a goddamned break. It’s a big part of her. But the rest of her realizes that no one else in this room is walking on rainbows. They could play one hell of a game of sob story one-upmanship, no one would win, and then they’d still have to solve their problems. “Rain check?”

“You know it.” Tony plunks the bottles on a coffee table with lion’s heads carved into the legs. “Well. Let’s save the world. Again.”


	47. Chapter 47

The alarms go off again in the wee hours of the morning, when the others arrive. The apartment is far too small to have so many people in it, and Dum-E and U beep their displeasure at being trapped in the corner of the living room.

The new arrivals are all damp, and Darcy glances out a window for the first time in hours to see a steady mist falling.

Tony is slightly manic. It’s because he’s terrible at gratitude, and Jane is standing in front of him. So he acts like Jane and Thor have been off on a couples’ cruise despite being the only alien experts they’ve got, instead of crossing oceans and borders illegally to get here.

Thor ignores it and hugs him, lifting the smaller man off his feet. Tony chokes mid-sentence, splutters, and then looks to seriously consider kicking the larger man.

“Is this an attack?” Tony asks him, as he’s set back on his feet. “Or is it a thank you? If so, you’re going to have to be more specific. It was all kind of a shit show and most people agree that no matter how satisfying punching Cap was, it was a mistake.”

“You are the brother of my lightning sister!” Thor claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “That makes us family.”

“Yeah. I don’t know about all that.” Tony shoots an accusing look at Darcy, picking at his now dampened shirt.

“Do you deny her?” Thor’s tone changes, anger rising. “She is my lightning sister, and she claims you as her brother. The brother of my-“

“Look, Johnny Bravo, my mother gave me Darcy decades before your Dad ever sent you bouncing through the universe on a time out!”

“Tony.” Bruce holds out a cup of coffee, giving Tony a look that Tony waves off. Tony is briefly distracted, gulping some of the coffee.

“Hi, Bruce. It’s good to see you.” Jane waves from the other side of the room. Thor’s cape is wrapped around her like a shawl.

“Jane.” Bruce nods. “Would you like some coffee? I can make a fresh pot.”

“I agreed to a dead brother-in-law, and now look at me,” Tony mutters, lowly enough that it seems only Darcy and Bruce hear.

“Tony!” Bruce groans and presses his fingers to his temples.

Again Tony waves him off, but he does give Darcy a quick measuring look. A miniscule tipping of his head, a flash of an apology and a shrug, and then he’s off again. A heavy hand lands on Darcy’s shoulder, and she glances down to see magenta fingers. 

Vision gives her an uncertain smile, and then awkwardly pats her shoulder three times. Darcy gives his fingers a squeeze, because damn if he isn’t trying. And the poor thing had been alone for months.

Worried about how little physical touch he’d gotten, what with everything going on, Darcy shifts and leans against his side. 

“And what’s reunion tour doing here?” Tony motions with a grimace. “Isn’t it their agent-sworn duty to arrest us?”

“No, Mr. Stark.” Maggie steps forward slightly and Tony narrows his eyes.

“Uh-huh. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word on that. And stay away from the burritos. You have all your secret agent skills, you’re getting your own food.”

“Mr. Stark-“ Maggie cuts off as she’s coated in foam retardant spray. It’s mostly coating her chest and stomach, but bits of white cling to her face and hair.

“Good job, buddy! Now, who’s ready to get back to work? You’d think you people didn’t realize the world was about to end.” Tony starts down the hall, edging around Dum-E, and then calls over his shoulder, “Team Reboot can’t come.”

“Yes you can,” Darcy tells them. “And there’s a shower just down the hall, first door on the left.

It’s strange for Darcy. Maggie and her team pretty much decide to provide security, ignoring Tony’s dismissive remarks that his system does a better job than they could ever dream of. They take over the kitchen, and take up posts that Darcy can follow the reasoning behind, and she knows where she’d go to hunker down if this were a mission.

But she’s on Team Science. And Team Science is a mindfuck.

She’s working with Tony, like they’ve always worked together. Half spoken sentences, shoving each other out of the way, talking over each other. But she’s also working with Jane, and that’s familiar and comforting too. Leaning against each other as they work through something, Jane’s fingers slipping through Darcy’s hair as she pulls it back, Jane’s groans of frustration.

And Bruce is there, too. Like another person she’s getting to know, someone else in a line of new people that will come and go. Only her mind keeps reminding her that he isn’t. She’s done popping in and out of life.

Thor and the other Asgardians are providing as much help as they can, but as the night wears, it becomes more and more obvious that the make-shift lab isn’t even close to enough.

And that they need the rest of the team.

Jane continues to focus on the scrolls, trying to find what she can about the Infinity Stones.

Otherwise, the conversation turns to trying to find a real lab, someplace secure, and a way to get word to the others.

Darcy gives in to her growing exhaustion before Sten feels like he has to say something. She’s been aware of more than a few watching eyes as she fights yawns. Plus, it’s not easy to fool Vision. She really needs to find out what exactly he can do. As it is, she’s pretty sure he can read her heart rate just looking at her.

When she leaves Jane, Tony, Vision, and Thor working in the ‘lab,’ she stops by the kitchen to check on Maggie and the team. Tim foists half a chicken salad sandwich on her, and Polly gives her a stack of Oreos.

She walks under where Maggie is perched on the roof and passes the room with two twin beds that the others have been using to sleep in shifts.

The room Tony has been using is at the end of the hall, and Darcy slips inside. Blush pink carpeting is thick under her feet, unlike in the rest of the apartment. In the other rooms, use had seen the carpeting worn, so that the only sign of it’s past luxury could be found near the walls where feet hadn’t tread.

Darcy sees a small, elegant writing desk and heavy drapes covered in a floral pattern. The matching floral bedding is piled in the corner. The sheets now on the bed are plain and utilitarian, possibly purchased by Tony when he saw the state of the place.

She spies Tony’s luggage and goes to dig out a shirt to sleep in. She passes several framed pictures that confirm Darcy’s guess that this room was Maria’s when she came to stay with her father.

Her decision to use Tony’s toothbrush is almost reversed when she sees the thing. It’s been three-ish days since she woke up, and the inside of her mouth hasn’t seen one toothbrush. But the thing sitting on the counter in the attached bathroom?

She’s half afraid it will identify cavities on it’s own and start drilling.

Desperation drives her, and no drilling commences.

Her feet have grown heavy and she shuffles towards the bed. She can just hear their muffled voices through the wall, and that’s nice.

She’s half tempted to grab one of those bottles of whiskey. Her heart races on it’s own, and her head spins. They’re trying to find a way to meet up with the others, and that makes her afraid.

And so, so hopeful. The hope cuts at her, because it’s Steve. Now that there is the possibility of having him back, all of the bandages she’d wrapped around her heart fall away.

When she lets herself hope, her breaths feel razor sharp. She can see Rebecca saying that she knows she’s one of the lucky ones. She’s standing in the woods as Gladys names a battlefield in France she’s never seen but is irrevocably now part of her life.

Darcy sleeps fitfully, despite her bone deep exhaustion. She drifts in and out of scrambled dreams. Sitting on the low wall of the patio at Stark Mansion next to a pudgy-handed JJ. Processing bank notes under the watchful eye of Ms. Howitz. Following the scent of nicotine down a promenade in Spain to find Dum Dum and Jac.

Even as she wishes for oblivion, too hot and kicking off the sheets, she wishes to drift into a dream about Steve. She quickly grows cold, and pulls the sheets back on, leaving one leg out. Her pillow gets too warm under her face, and her hair keeps wrapping around her neck.

Half dozing, she thinks she hears Mrs. Barnes calling for them to get ready for church.

She flips and punches her pillow to fluff it, tired both mentally and physically.


	48. Chapter 48

When she jerks awake again, for just a second she thinks she’s back in the apartment in Brooklyn. Her sleepy brain can still hear the sounds of Steve moving through the kitchen in the morning.

Instead, she opens her eyes to the cracked ceilings of Julian’s apartment.

At a rattling sound, she sits up to see a shirtless Tony emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel around his neck.

“Good news. We’re not fugitives anymore.”

Darcy tries to shake off the untethered feeling, kicking away the tangled sheets. The uneasy night clings to her, and she rubs a hand down her arm half expecting it come away with scattered thoughts like spiderwebs.

She swings her feet to the floor as he digs through the dresser, and a second later a button up shirt lands on the wadded sheets next to her.

“It’s official. The President is blaming Congress. Congress is blaming the President. Everyone is saying they were against Ross the entire time. It’s all bullshit, but the Accords are as good as repealed.”

Tony crosses the room, snatching up his shirt. “Rhodey checked himself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders. That’s a thing that happened.”

“What?”

“Yep. Pep’s holding news conferences from Paris SI.” Tony turns from the window and taps the center of his chest. “It’s impossible for me to have a heart attack now, but I think they’re gonna do it. Drive me to it.”

Darcy stares down at her toes. Pale skin against the pink of the carpet, her nails painted gun metal gray because DUM-E had seemed happy at the idea of matching, and she’d had time to kill at the Malibu house. Twelve years ago. Four days ago.

Her wrist is suddenly pinched in a tight grip. She’s able to look away from her toes, and instead focuses on his hand.

“What are we doing here?” He asks. “We’re talking putting out the word, maybe leaving here tonight. You want to see him, cool, you don’t want to-“

“Of course I want to see him.” Darcy snaps, and the tightness in her chest loosens. She can breathe again.

“Deep breaths,” Tony instructs, shifting his grip on her wrist as he sits next to her. He flips his hand over, index finger tapping insistently at the center of her palm until she copies the movement. Index finger, middle finger, thumb, index finger, ring finger, index finger, middle finger.

Darcy continues repeating his actions, looking away when she sees Jane and Thor in the doorway.

“Okay. You want to see him.” Tony says, his voice a little harder, a warning for the others. Darcy closes her eyes, overwhelmed for a second. He’s always been there for her. From the time he stole his security man’s car and drove across three states after JJ and Andrew.

The world has been shit, and she’s kind of lost herself a little along the way, just slogging through and marching forward. And Tony has been there next to her, not caring when she fucks up, finger tapping when things become too much and her world narrows down to her racing heart. They wade through the trainwreck to each other and somehow they always haul each other back out, back in fighting shape.

Maybe she shouldn’t depend on him so much. That seems like a lesson she should have learned by now, but her chance to close everyone off had come and gone. After JJ and Andrew she could have, if it wasn’t for Howard and Maria. And after Howard and Maria she could have, if it wasn’t for Tony.

“I mean, he has serious self-righteous asshole tendencies,” Tony twists his fingers, catching her middle finger in his and squeezing it before releasing it, “but light of your life, whatever.”

Darcy shivers and the arm he has wrapped around her tightens. “I don’t know how to do this, Tony.”

“Not really a manual for this, but we don’t read them anyway.” Tony shifts. “Full disclosure, though.”

Darcy nudges him, tips her head towards the doorway, reminding him.  
“Fuck it. The rest of the team knows by now.” He weaves their fingers together. “After I found out Zemo was behind the bombing, and that he only pinned it on Barnes, I went behind Ross’ back to team up with Rogers and Barnes.”

“I did not know this.” Thor comes further into the room, bringing Jane with him. “I am glad that you remembered your friendship with Steven. The two of you depend on each other more than either of you acknowledged.”

“Yeah, slow down, He-Man, wait until the end of story time, okay?” Tony’s fingers drum against her palm in a nervous motion. “There were other enhanced soldiers, supposedly ones that were even more fucked up than Barnes.”

“Tony, please.” Darcy says, and he nods, biting his lips.

“Zemo was going to activate them in some grand plan. Only that wasn’t the plan, they had already been killed in their freaky holding tanks.” Tony’s knee is now bouncing up and down. “The real plan was to turn us against each other. Me against Steve. And he had just the thing to do it.”

“Not Darcy.” Jane is looking between Tony and Darcy worriedly.

“We didn’t know about Darcy then. Darcy and I didn’t talk about her husband. I knew it would hurt her, and I’m guessing she knew it would hurt me. Seeing as he was long dead, what the fuck did it matter anyway?” His fingers drum faster and faster even as he laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “He had footage of the accident, Darce.”

“The accident?” Thor asks, looking to Jane.

Darcy grips Tony’s hand tightly, like she can protect him from something that had already happened. Why would Zemo have footage of the accident? Why would that have anything to do with Steve?

“Zemo played it. Dad’s car. They made it through the wreck.” There is a quake in Tony’s voice, and Jane steps forward hand already going to her mouth. “They sent the soldier to kill them. Steve knew. Mom was crying. He killed Dad first, a couple blows to the head, dragged him back to the car. Walked around and choked Mom.”

Darcy is staring straight ahead, but she adjusts her gaze a little. There is a picture of Maria holding baby Tony. He was a gorgeous baby.

“Darcy?” Jane whispers.

Tony’s hand is gripping hers tighter and tighter. Tony had seen this video. Fucking Zemo had showed it to him. 

And Howard and Maria. Oh, hell, Howard and Maria. 

Darcy turns into Tony’s arm as the pain blossoms inside of her, fresh and so god damned real. He wraps her up tight, and she can feel how tense he is. Like something might snap at any moment.

His forehead drops against her shoulder, and Darcy burrows her face into his neck as her eyes burn.

Murder. Howard and Maria had been murdered. Oh, god, Bucky had done it, and Tony had watched the entire thing. Mom was crying. Darcy’s hands fist in Tony’s shirt.

Maria had been an amazing woman, so misunderstood, so kind. And she’d been the only person in Tony’s life to understand him, to see through his genius to the person he was underneath.

And Howard. Howard had been a hell of a friend to both Darcy and Peggy. He’d loved Maria, had never even been tempted by another woman after he’d met her. And he’d needed more time with Tony.

Darcy doesn’t know what to do with all of the feelings raging inside of her. So much anger and hurt.

Tony has been alone. No Pepper, no Rhodey, no Happy. None of the friends he’d made on the Avengers. Steve knew.

Fuck. Darcy is literally shaking with anger, even as she moves her hand up, fingers sliding through his hair to hold the back of his head.

“We will-“ Darcy cuts off, shaking her head. “We’ll deal with this. Together.”

“Darcy.” Jane whispers. Whatever is on Darcy’s face when she turns stops Jane in her tracks.

Thor puts a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Allow me to express my sincere condolences, Tony. Darcy. My mother was taken from us too soon as well, by an enemy.”

Tony straightens a little, but leaves his head on Darcy’s shoulder for a second longer before pushing away.

“I pledge my hammer beside you in battle to avenge her, and my friendship to ease your pain. You need only to tell us what you need, and we will make it so.”

“We’ll go grab you both some breakfast.” Jane says softly. She trails a hand down Darcy’s arm before she leaves.

Tony stands, leaving his back to her as he wipes quickly at his face. “You knew Barnes before. You married Rogers, you knew Barnes. Even if there are only pictures of you with his sister.”

“Yes.” It’s another punch to the gut. “And he was Howard’s friend, after I left. During the war.”

“And I’m guessing he was a stand up guy, just like all the memorials and museum exhibits say?” Tony asks bitterly.

“He was Steve’s best friend. Since they were small. The type of friends that Steve helped pay Bucky’s mom and sister’s bills while Bucky was at boot camp. And that Bucky’s family paid for Steve’s prescriptions when he got so sick he lost his jobs.” Darcy swallows against the knot in her throat. She can see the Barnes apartment clearly in her mind, along with the one she’d shared with Steve. The mattress they’d drug over the week Bucky stayed with them. “Thor used to call storms for me. At night. I like how it feels, being warm and safe inside during a storm.”

Tony looks back at her, the skin under his eyes still slightly damp.

“After I was stuck in the past, maybe forever as far as I knew then, sometimes storms would make me sad. Homesick. And I’d miss Jane and Thor.” Darcy clamps her hands together to stop their shaking. “Anyway, Bucky came over during a storm. Steve had told him they made me sad. By the end of the night he had my sides aching from laughing so much. He danced me all over the living room until I could hardly breathe, then he cooked me dinner.”

Tony turned to face the windows again, but he made a motion with his hand, telling her to continue.

“Rebecca loved him. He sent all of his earnings back to his mom and his sister. A lot of guys back then were asshats to their sisters, not on purpose, but just overriding what they wanted, discounting their opinions. Rebecca said she wanted John, and Bucky took her word for it.”

Remembering hurts, but Tony seems to need it. So Darcy digs in. “Mrs. Barnes would have scared the shit out of you. I swear she could almost read minds. She was no nonsense, worked herself to the bone. The post office or the army lost Bucky’s letters home when he was training, and Mrs. Barnes was so worried. She said he was a handful his whole life, charming as the devil and twice as much trouble, but that he had a soft heart. Felt everything so strongly, tried so hard to do what was right and always held himself accountable.”

“They brainwashed him.”

“I know.” Darcy shoves down a wave of nausea.

“No. After this all went down, I didn’t have much else to do. Before we found out about Thanos, before I found out you were Jane’s missing assistant.” Tony braces his hands against the window sill, and Darcy can see his knuckles go white. “They tortured him, they stripped him down and took his humanity from him, and still he fought them. They built a machine, a chair. Strapped him in. They called it wiping him.”

Darcy tastes blood in her mouth.

“He’d come out of that chair, they’d say the words, the words they’d programmed into him, and he’d do whatever the fuck they told him to. He’d walk on a shattered leg. He’d flay his own skin off. They tested it. They’d take him out for days, then freeze him again. And the first time he showed the slightest sign of hesitance, walking around a fire instead of through it, they’d wipe him again.”

Tony turns and faces her. His eyes are burning with intensity. “You say he was a good guy. And I know being pulled from a battlefield and strapped to a table. So tell me. Tell me what I’m seeing here, Darcy.”

“Bucky was a good person. And Steve knew him. So if Steve says that he’s still in there, I’d believe him.” Darcy says as the floorboards in the hall creak.

Thor steps into the room with a tray. Tony snaps his fingers, spinning on his heel.

“Did you see Bruce? I need to get something down.” He grabs a sausage patty and a piece of toast, not waiting for Thor to answer.  
Tony darts through the doorway, leaving Darcy with Jane and Thor. Jane crawls onto the bed next to Darcy, wrapping her arms around Darcy’s stiff frame.

“Get my tablet?” Darcy asks Thor, and he nods solemnly.


	49. Chapter 49

“I think you should take a break now.” Jane says softly.

“That’s all there is.” Darcy lets Jane take the tablet away.

Darcy turns her face away, to the bright light of the window.

Across the street, a woman stands at her window. At first, Darcy blanches. Adrenaline surges, she looks for the glint of a gun. But the woman isn’t paying any attention to the world outside of her own window, instead she’s carefully taping something to the glass.

Darcy narrows her eyes at the blue iris. Another spot of blue catches her eye, and yes, there’s another window with an iris in it.

“What’s with the irises?” Darcy asks, and Jane’s gentle petting stops.

“What?”

Darcy rolls off the side of the bed and goes to the window, looking both ways down the street. The angle of the buildings, and the steep slant of the streets combine to limit her view.

She can only see the two irises, but two is enough. Why would there be a blue iris in a shop window in New York and the exact same iris in apartment windows in Andorra?

“Come on.” Darcy says, turning at an outburst from the other room.

Thor stands between Maggie and Tony.

“Director Hill would like to meet with you.” Maggie says between gritted teeth.

“Don’t care.” Tony doesn’t even look up from the screen Bruce shoves under his nose.

“Mr. Stark, we have resources and equipment that could make the difference.”

“No.” Tony says, and Bruce looks over the rim of his glasses at Maggie.

“Mr. Stark, you need-“ Darcy winces and Maggie cuts off as Tony’s head swings up with a disbelieving look on his face.

“I don’t need to do anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what all you government types were saying six months ago. I tried to work with you, and look how that turned out for me?” Tony gestures around the room. Darcy wonders if Maggie notices how he pauses at people, not things. “So why don’t you use your resources and equipment to track down someone else?”

“You are the team’s weapon’s engineer, Mr. Stark.” Maggie tries again.

“Wrong. There is no team, or hadn’t you noticed?” Tony tosses a pair of pants over his shoulder and lifts the tablet he finds underneath it, peering at the screen for only a second before he tosses that over his shoulder as well. Jane barely manages to catch it. She hands it to Bruce, who apparently has terrible reflexes when he’s not green. “Just in case you didn’t know, the only reason you’re here is Darcy, and you’re pushing it.”

“This needs to be discussed.”

Tony scrunches up his face and holds out a hand, palm out. “No. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop standing in my line of vision. Stop reminding me you’re here.”

“That’s enough.” Darcy says, and Maggie stops. “What’s going on?”

It’s the first time she’s seen everyone crowded into one room.

“Pepper Potts bought a mansion in southern France.” Maggie explains. “She’s doing the exact opposite of being discreet about it, or the fact that it has a runway. There is reason to believe that members of the Avengers team are already there.”

“And this is a problem why?” Darcy asks, ignoring the way her heart is now thudding in her ears. Which Avengers?

“Someone from the team needs to talk with SHIELD.” Maggie’s shoulders droop slightly. “We want Tony to come in before he goes to France. Unfortunately, he is the most likely to cooperate.”

“That’s too bad,” Darcy says, and Maggie’s head drops. “Sorry, but fuck that. Besides, you actually think him walking into a team meeting with government agency information is going to go over well? Even if that whole idea wasn’t fucked up anyway, given what happened the last time he cooperated?”

“The stakes are too high to-“

“No.” Darcy interrupts. “Not for family. And you know that. If this was your family, you’d be standing where I am.”

There isn’t much Maggie can say to that. Not with the members of her team standing behind her, joined not by orders or assignments, but by the family their grandparents and parents had made.

“Which Avengers?” Jane asks in the new quiet.

“Natasha and Wanda.” Thor answers, and Darcy’s heart sinks. “They were travelling together. Vision was tracking them in Nepal when I found him.”

Bruce glances towards Maggie and the other agents. “Clint is at an undisclosed safe house with his family. He took Scott with him, and Scott’s ex-wife, her new husband, and Scott’s daughter have joined them there,” Vision says, and Bruce lets out a low whistle.

“Yeah, I knew about happy families at the Barton Farmstead. I might have installed some extra security there. Which is how I know Barton and Lang are on the move.”

“With permission. Tell me you did it with his permission, Tony.” Bruce groans, pulling off his glasses to clean them, his movements jerky. “I hope it’s secure.”

“Relax, Bruce. I used the same stuff I used for Pepper’s places and Darcy’s apartment.” Tony says grimly. “Family is family. And they’re off limits.”

“Natasha would have had a way to contact Clint.” Bruce looks pained.

“Those two have backup plans for their backup plans when it comes to going to ground,” Tony adds. “And she’ll probably have a way to contact Cap. She did have to meet up with them to pick up Wanda at some point.”

“You do not have a way to contact Steven?” Thor asks Tony.

“I had a burner phone with a few numbers on it. But that was months back, and it got fried.”

“Seriously?” Jane demands, then turns on Thor. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because we are a team. Even with the entire realm attempting to stand between us, we are still connected.” Thor claps his hands together behind his back. “So we’re going to France. How far is it?”

“A few hours north, actually. Shorter by plane.” Vision answers, sounding slightly dazed.

“Okay. So what’s up with the blue irises?”

The way everyone in the room reacts, Darcy realizes that she’d been right. They are significant.

“What do you know about the irises?” Meg asks. “Seriously, I’ve been-“

Polly quiets Meg with a hand on her shoulder.

“No, but really, I’ve been – Pol, I just want-“

Darcy stops paying attention to them when Tony flicks his tablet display up onto the flat screen hanging slightly crookedly on the wall.

It’s an image search results page. The irises are everywhere. An exact copy, repeated again and again and again. On the front page of the New York Times, in car windows, on signs people are holding up. In countries all over the world.

And now, Darcy can see it up close.

The sweeping strokes of ink, the careful shading. Her knees try to buckle, and she braces herself against a rolling tool chest. That iris had graced the bone of her ankle, the tip of a pen had tickled her ribs as it left blue petals there. It had been drawn onto newspaper and tucked into her work case for her to find later.

“Steve posted it to his Twitter account. The first thing he’s posted since all of this happened.” Bruce tells her softly, his hand coming up to cup her elbow. “He asked his followers to spread it around. I’m not sure he knows he has forty million followers.”

“Does it mean something?” Vision asks, head tilted to one side.

“Only to me.” Darcy whispers, looking back to the screen.


	50. Chapter 50

“Darcy?”

Darcy comes up with a welding face mask to find Sharon at the door. “Sharon. Hi.”

“Hello.” Sharon smiles at Darcy’s gesture to come in. Reconsidering, Dracy shoves the welding mask back into Tony’s suitcase. Who knows what Pepper did and didn’t stock the mansion with. “We haven’t really had the chance to talk.”

“I know. Thank you for being here. For coming to help.”

“It’s a legacy.” Sharon picks up a fried motherboard, turning the blackened metal and plastic over in her hands. “More, it was the right thing to do.”

“Well, it made it possible for me to leave New York without making a scene while I was still getting my feet under me.” Darcy digs through Tony’s suitcase, searching for something clean to wear. Nothing looks particularly promising. “If I had tried it on my own, Jane and I would have had it a lot rougher.”

“I’ve seen your mission files. You would have found a way, but I’m glad we were able to help.” Sharon leans against the wall, looking uneasy. Darcy stills, wondering what’s bothering the other woman. Had something happened? Had Maggie had to call SHIELD after all? “I actually needed to talk to you.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Darcy catches movement out of the corner of her eye and sees Jane, who slows and lingers just out of Sharon’s sight.

Sharon looks down, setting aside the motherboard, then straightens, meeting Darcy’s gaze head-on. Blonde hair neatly styled. Controlled, confident manner. She fits what Darcy had gathered about her from her cousins. A competent, driven woman. “I was briefly involved with Steve.”

Darcy blinks in surprise. A shirt falls from her hands. That is… so not what she’d expected. “Oh.”

“It didn’t go anywhere. He was on the run, and even the few times we were able to meet up, Barnes and Wilson were always there. They aren’t as slick as they think.” Sharon rolls her eyes. It is where Darcy might normally commiserate, but she doesn’t know Sam, and she hasn’t seen Bucky since everything, and really she’s buried underneath a pile of ‘nothing is applicable to this.’ “Anyway, he was always reserved, hesitant. At the time, I thought it might have been because of Aunt Peggy. A few months after we agreed the time wasn’t right, I opened the mission file from Aunt Peggy and learned about you.”

Darcy bites her lips, holding in the words that want to sputter out. But looking at Sharon is too much, and she closes her eyes and turns, for just a second to compose herself. The last time she’d at least had a beaker full of whiskey, damnit. “I see.”

“I didn’t feel comfortable working with you and keeping it from you. It is obviously not something that I was open about, and you don’t have to worry about that changing. If you like, it can stay between us permanently.” The attempt to be brisk, and the way Sharon fails just a little, has Darcy turning back.

Trying to focus on the reason Sharon had approached her, which, dude, respect, Darcy nods. “I understand. Thank you for being upfront with me. That must have been a shitty surprise.”

A smile flickers. “Things made a lot more sense, but yes, it was a shock.”

Darcy nods, completely lost for words now.

“Since we agreed to step back, Steve hasn’t contacted me to meet up for information. There is only one reason I can think of that he did so this afternoon.” Sharon steps forward, offering Darcy a piece of paper. In black ink, there is an address and time. “He’ll be there.”

Sharon steps back, her hands now folded together. Her smile is pained as she nods towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Darcy watches her go, giving the other woman one last smile as Sharon pulls the door closed behind her. 

“What the fuck?” Jane creeps forward, eyes wide. “That was the most awkward moment of my life. Are you okay?”

“What the fuck is it about Carter women?” Darcy blurts, then winces, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “I’m so glad I didn’t say that in front of her. She probably hated that connection.”

“You’re handling it a lot better than I would.” Jane gently takes the piece of paper from Darcy.

“Oh, I’m trying. I’m trying really fucking hard to handle this.” Darcy turns back to her packing, needing something to do with her hands. “Because what did either of them know? Her? She just met someone, thought she had a chance. Steve thought I was gone, I disappeared in front of him seventy-three years ago. He was trying to move on.”

“Did you try to move on?” Jane takes the pillow Darcy had just put in the suitcase back out.

“He died, Jane. I loved him, and he died in a plane crash.” Darcy hurls the pillow away when she picks it up again, ready to put it in the suitcase. “So, no. I did not try to move on. I wasn’t there yet, and I don’t want to be there. I want him. I want to be one of the lucky ones.”

“Chop chop, people.” Tony strides into the room, “We’re gonna be late for the family reunion. Apparently I’m not allowed to theorize about why Vision is so excited, but – What. What happened?”

“While you go to Pepper, I’m going to go to Steve.” Darcy waves the piece of paper at him. “And then we’ll meet you there.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Tony winces and retracts his flung out hands to put them on his hips. “Can we talk about this? Family meeting.”

“Nothing to discuss. I’ve got these.” Darcy shakes her arm cuffs at him, then kicks one foot towards him. Because now she has ankle cuffs too, and yes, that shit can cover her whole body which freaks her out, but not as much as the idea of her out in the world without them freaks Tony out. Plus the new ones are lipstick red. Those damn Stark men know the way to her heart. “I know how to take care of myself, and they’re expecting one person. Sharon.”

“Agents.” Tony mutters.

“If I run into trouble, you’ll know. But Tony, what would you be doing if it was Pepper?” Darcy raises a brow when Tony opens his mouth. “And do you want me standing there when you talk to her?”

“Fair enough, but there’s a perfectly good French castle waiting where you can talk to him alone all you want.” Tony looks to Jane for support. “It would be romantic.”

“I’m not waiting any longer. I know where he’s going to be in four hours. And Tony, it’s close to the castle. So I’m only being mildly unreasonable, which has always been good enough for us.”

“First sign of trouble, I’m coming.” He tries to stare her down, and fails. “You’ll press the panic button at the first sign of trouble, and then I’m coming.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Tony rocks back on his heels. “And you get to tell Vision. You’re the one that legitimized him.”


	51. Chapter 51

They split ways in the street in front of the apartment. Maggie has called for extraction for her team. The others are going to take the delivery truck to Tony’s jet.

And Darcy is taking the van Maggie, Polly, Lewis, and Meg had stolen to drive to the apartment.

She is only half present as she says goodbye to everyone. Tony lingers, supposedly doing a last check on the arm cuffs, while Vision hovers behind him. Both literally and figuratively.

“I’m fine.” Darcy finally pulls her arms away from Tony. “Nervous as fuck, but fine.”

“What’s to be nervous about? If things go to shit, I get to punch-“

“Flamingo.” Darcy and Vision say at once, and Tony doesn’t even try to hide the upturn of his lips.

“You’re awful.”

“Terrible.” Tony agrees. “Are we just going to stand here, or are you going to go get some spangled-“

Vision reaches through Tony’s head, then brings his hand back to clamp over his mouth. Tony’s eyebrows smash together and he jerks back. “Okay, that was a little much.”

“I don’t think so.” Vision replies blandly.

“No, it was. It was a lot much.”

Darcy turns away, climbing up into the van. A riot of butterflies swirl in her stomach. She closes her eyes against the oversized ring of keys, the blue gel odor absorber, and Tony and Vision’s quiet bickering.

 _Please_ , she thinks, hands tightening on the steering wheel. _Please_.

She turns the key and puts the gearshift in drive. She waves to Tony and Vision, who are now both watching her carefully. Pulling away from the curb, she does what she’d done flying through enemy territory so many times, and forces the clusterfuck of emotions down so her hands can be steady and her mind can be sharp.

As she drives, she passes twenty-three irises. Every single one shores her heart up, soothes her worry, calms the electric fear that wants to overtake her as she keeps her hands at ten and two.

Steve had drawn her flowers since they couldn’t afford them to put in vases. And he’d wanted to give her all the things other women got from their beaus. She’s not sure he ever believed her that his ink meant more to her than a bouquet ever would.

All types of flowers found their way tucked into the glass of her mirror, between the pages of her books, once even in an empty spot in the egg carton. The blue irises though, they were her favorite. And they were the ones most often saved to be inked onto her body, midnight blue petals strikingly bold against her pale skin. Rebecca was the only person who’d ever seen that, and she wouldn’t have told anyone.

And so with each vivid blue flower she passes, it hushes that disbelief that it could really be him, that it is her Steve that is waiting.

That she gets to have him again. Touch his skin, hear his voice, wrap her arms around him.

That it’s 2016, and she’s driving through France wearing one of Thor’s shirts like a dress, and supposedly she’s here to stay, and _Steve is here, too._

He’d lived, and she’d lived, too.

At the border, she is prepared with every kind of identification they could ask for. Her picture, someone else’s name. Jane’s blonde wig.

It is slow, cars lined up in the single lane that curls through the mountains, moving forward at a crawl. No doubt the same panic that had clogged New York’s roads is in effect here. People retreating back to their own countries, leaving the cities for the perceived security of a relative’s country home, searching for safety.

Her anxiety ratchets up as she watches the minutes roll by. She’s going to be late.

When it is her turn, she rolls down the window, her documents in her lap. She worries they’ll recognize her, and that France’s entire Avengers welcome PR campaign is a trap.

The border agent takes her passport, gives it a practiced looking over, and hands it back. There are only a few questions, and then the woman nods and waves Darcy forward.

Traffic doesn’t thin out until they clear the mountains. Darcy passes the highway she’d take to get to the place Pepper had bought.

She drives faster than she should, faster than the legal limit, making up some time just outside of Toulouse. Speeding over a pair of scenic bridges, darting glances at the tablet in her lap to make sure she doesn’t miss her turn.

Someone cuts her off and she has to smother a scream. Finding a parking space is a nightmare, and by the time she slams the van into park, she’s near tears.

Her hands shake as she grabs the Turnip the Beet bag and yanks off her wig.

The Gare de Toulouse-Matabiau building is old, beautiful, and bustling. The outside of the building is decorated with ornate stonework, and the inside has tall ceilings and gleaming floors.

Darcy maneuvers around the people clustered beneath the digital monitors listing departing and arriving trains. The piece of paper had specified the second underpass, so Darcy watches the signs overhead and looks for stairs.

She dodges rolling luggage, passes glowing vending machines, and gets stuck behind an old couple walking slowly.

In the underpass her shoes tap against square tiles and she hears the echoes of a hundred different conversations. Who has the tickets. How much it had been to park the car. Someone had packed too much, and another person had forgotten aspirin. Someone named Charlie had better stop stepping on the back of his brother’s shoe or he’s not getting ice cream.

There are clocks everywhere, and every single one of them tell her how late she is. The further she walks through the tunnel, the harder it becomes to breathe. Had he left? Assumed Sharon couldn’t make it? Would he go directly to the mansion?

Then her eyes snag on a pair of broad shoulders. Not because they look familiar, but because the guy is leaning against the wall, with no luggage. She hadn’t recognized him, she’d recognized the possibility of a threat.

But as she slows, she does recognize those shoulders, that jawline, the trim hips. She’d seen it in old tapes from the war, and in new video on CNN. The plain ball cap tugged low over his eyes really doesn’t do much.

And who wears plain ball caps? Where did people even buy those? Jesus, Steve, worst disguise ever.

And at that, she stumbles to a stop. The noise of the crowd is drowned out by the roar of her own blood in her ears. She can feel her pulse throbbing in her neck, her wrists, and thundering in the center of her chest.

He is facing away from her. A distant part of Darcy’s mind reminds her that Sharon had been in Berlin, before everything. He must think she’s coming in on the train.

So she stands a few feet away, feet glued to the floor. He’s so tall. He’d looked tall, in all the footage, but now he’s in front of her, and he’s so tall. It couldn’t be her Steve, but there is something familiar in the way his skull tapers to his neck, the glint of his blonde hair, and the cut of his cheekbones.

She opens her mouth to say something. His name. Anything, to draw his attention. Instead she snaps it closed again, to trap a sob that wants to escape.

She’d stormed enemy doors with Dum Dum, she’d landed a plane with both engines blown, she is not going to fall apart now.

None of that felt anything like the moment he turns, to glance back down the tunnel and sees her. None of it, not bullets, or hostile Soviet airspace, or labs blowing up, not a single moment of her life felt as singularly important, as harrowing, as all-encompassing as this moment.

All she can think is that he doesn’t look like Captain America at all. Staring back at her are blue eyes she knows in every kind of light. She sees long eyelashes that have fluttered against her skin, she fucking knows that deep line in between his brows that only appears when he’s really worried, usually about money or Bucky.

“Steve?”

The floor tilts, and she braces a hand against the cool tile wall.

“Steve? Please.”

One second he’s several feet away, staring right back at her. The next, he’s in front of her, raising a shaking hand to her face.

She doesn’t realize she’s talking, saying please over and over again, begging who she doesn’t even know that this is real, until he presses his trembling fingers against her lips.

“What did I tell you about saying please?” His voice is hushed, deepened with emotion, and cracks at the end.

The sound Darcy makes is something between a laugh and a sob, and she burrows into him.

It isn’t familiar. She can’t notch her head into his neck, her chin resting on his jutting collarbone. He blocks out the world with his shoulders, and her arms hardly fit around him. But he keeps saying her name, and his voice is the same.

She pulls back, needing to see his face again. She’s soaring, high on elation and utterly dumbstruck for a second.

His fingers are buried in her hair, and his thumb traces the line of her cheek.

He bends closer, his hand tipping her face up. Then he pulls up short, his eyes rising from her lips.

Darcy gives him a shaky smile. “Steven Rogers, if you don’t kiss me right now I may die.”

The feeling that comes when his lips press against hers is indescribable. It is missed and missing and found, it is wanted and wanting and having. It’s belonging and coming home.

The sound that he makes as he sinks into the kiss tells her that she’s not the only one lost in the absolute best way.


	52. Chapter 52

The world intrudes again in the form of the high squeal of a train coming into the station, brakes whining and a cool rush of air being pushed through the tunnel.

Steve pulls away, looking down towards the terminal. Darcy realizes she’s now pressed against the wall, pinned between the cold tiles and his warm body. She shivers, and he runs one hand up and down her arm as he scans the busy crowd around them.

An announcement comes on overhead. The train from Narbonne is running twenty minutes late. Passengers should wait out of the way of boarding trains.

“We should go.” Steve turns back to her, eyes flicking over her face intently.

“I have a van.” Darcy offers and he nods. “But the train will be faster. Traffic is terrible out there.”

“You think we can get a ticket?”

“The news keeps saying we only have to ask.” Darcy looks back towards the ticket counters. She can’t see them, but she can see the line.

Steve’s grip tightens on her arm. “I don’t think we can risk-”

“Steve.” Darcy tilts her head when he stops. “Don’t coddle me. I can take care of myself. And maybe people were scared and let that fear get the best of them, but I truly believe that the majority of people aren’t like Secretary Ross. Do you believe that too?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” He says grimly, jaw tight. His fingers brush over the front of her borrowed shirt, over her bandages. That answers the question of if he’d seen the news.

“Yes you do.” Darcy has to reach up to cup his cheek now. “You might be angry, but I know you would never write off the entire human race. That’s not who you are, and maybe you look a little different now, but I can still see the man I love in there.”

“Darce.” His eyes close.

“Do you know how I got here? My friends, but also strangers. Ones who recognized me and offered me help, and ones who didn’t but were kind despite all of this.” Darcy spots a man in a gray and red uniform with a name badge clipped to his belt. “So let’s ask this guy for help. See what happens.”

He nods, opening his eyes again. Darcy smiles and turns towards the worker she’d seen.

His hand brushes over her shoulder as they walk, then the small of her back, and the side of her waist. Darcy catches it, twining her fingers through his and tightening her grip.

“Excusez-moi. We need to go to Agen. Can you help us?” Darcy calls after the harried man. “Monsieur, please.”

He turns, already raising his arm to point in the direction of the ticket counter. Steve’s grip on her hand tightens even more when the man’s eyes go wide, and then even wider when he sees Steve behind her.

“Oui. Yes.” The man rubs a hand over his gray mustache, then unclips a walkie-talkie from his belt. “We have a government order to provide you with whatever assistance you require. We can call in the guard, if you need.”

“No.” Steve curls his other arm around Darcy’s waist, gently tugging her back against him. “We just need tickets to Agen. As soon as you can manage.”

“Of course, sir. They wouldn’t have given away the emergency carrel just yet. One moment.” The man raises the walkie-talkie to his lips, speaking in rapid fire French.

Steve’s tense grip relaxes slightly as the man talks. He’s reporting that he has two political passengers for the train to Agen. The woman that responds says they will hold one carrel.

The man tells them to go to the security office at the end of the underpass to get a pair of tickets. Then, he looks between them, nodding decisively to himself. “Please allow me to say how glad I am to see you not only here, but together. France welcomes you, and I wish you luck.”

Darcy offers her hand for him to shake, and Steve does the same.

Steve is on edge the entire time, and once they are in a small carrel, the door shutting away the hallway, he leans forward to look out the window, watching the platform.

The other carrels they’d passed had all been crammed full, some past the maximum occupancy of six.

Darcy looks around their carrel, at the four empty seats. She can only assume that the railway administration reserves a carrel on every train, for people the government might need to move quickly. The man had said they wouldn’t have given it away yet, so perhaps once it’s close enough to departure, they fill the reserved cars.

“Where are Bucky and Sam?” Darcy asks, wondering if they are on their way.

Steve looks over at her in surprise. Then he looks guilty. “I gave them the slip last night. They should be with the others by now.”

“What? Why?”

“I had to find you.” Steve reaches for her hands. “I had to find you. They were right, it made more sense to go to the others, but I had to check in with Sharon. I didn’t think any of the others would have been working with anyone connected to government, so she might have known something. Obviously she did.”

“She was with the group that helped me get out of New York.” Darcy says as the train begins to move forward. “We were actually only a few hours south of here, but traffic was backed up, especially at the border.”

“You shouldn’t have come, it’s too dangerous. I know,” he edges closer, “I know you can take care of yourself. But you got shot two days ago, and how long have you been here? I can count on two hands the people I would trust right now.”

“Am I included in that count?”

“Of course.”

“Then have a little faith, Steve. I’m not saying I’m completely healed, but I’m being treated by an Asgardian healer. And I feel pretty confident in saying that I’m one of the safest people in the world. I’ve got some kind of Asgardian armor on under this, I’ve got about eight different options for tasing someone, two knives, and a suit from Tony.” Darcy nods at his slightly incredulous expression. “I know, plus I’ve got three different identities ready to go in this bag, Tony and Vision waiting for the slightest reason to butt in, and a specialist team made up of SHIELD, CIA, and independent operatives on retainer.”

“And _that_ is all in addition to _me_.” Darcy frees one of her hands to motion to herself. “I speak five languages fluently, can fly just about anything with wings, rig up tasers and bombs out of scraps, and my husband taught me a hell of a right hook.”

He smiles, but it’s sad. It has her pulling the curtain to block out the hallway. His eyes flick there, and he looks ready to object until Darcy crawls into his lap.

Wrapping his arms around her, he braces her. “There’s so much I should tell you.”

“Probably, but I’m going to bet I know a lot of it. We know, and knew, a lot of stand up people.” Darcy brushes her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know where to start. But since I’m not sure what we’re going to walk into with everyone, I guess I should start there.” Steve frowns, and that line between his brows deepens. Darcy wants to rub it away with her thumb. “You’re close with Tony? I didn’t know what to believe on the news, I know how outlandish some of it can get.”

“In 1981 Maria Stark decided we were siblings.” Darcy can’t help smiling a little. “She gets a bad rap in the press, but in the Stark family what Maria said went, and I wasn’t in any condition to say much of anything about it. And now I can’t tell you what might have happened if I didn’t have Tony.”

“Have you seen Tony yet? Did he tell you about Bucky?”

“That Hydra made him kill Howard and Maria? Yes, I know. And I know about what Zemo did, I saw the video of what happened when he showed Tony the footage.”

Steve’s expression crumbles. “Darcy.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Darcy wipes the gathering moisture from under his eyes. “I never would have expected you to let anyone hurt Bucky. Tony would have killed him. And he would have come to regret it.”

Steve stares back at her, and his shoulders slump, like a great weight has been lifted from them. Darcy gives in and runs her thumb over the furrow between his brows.

“Hi.” She whispers. “I missed you.”

“Sweetheart.” Steve leans his forehead against hers. “I missed you every day, it hurt every time I woke up and remembered again that you were gone. Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I thought you were dead, Steve.” She feels the tears spill over. “And now you’re here. You lived through it, and you’re still here. And still the same, still fighting against every wrong you see.”

“M’sorry.”

“Yeah, well, never again Steve.” Darcy chides through her tears. “I can’t do it.”

“I’ll always do everything to get back to you.” He promises softly. “I know that you were friends with Peg, and that you’ve worked with Sharon. I - I thought maybe I didn’t have to be so alone. There was potential, and sometimes it seemed so apparent, but other times it felt like it was carved into my bones that it wasn’t you.”

“I don’t know Sharon very well, but she seems like a strong, loyal person. Someone not afraid to stand for what she believes in. And I did know Peggy.” Darcy feels a fresh wave of grief. “She was my friend, though we definitely had different ways of seeing things. They were both pretty upfront about you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” Steve rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, with Peggy it really cleared the air. Howard had _everything_ he could get his hands on, and when I showed up in ‘53 he turned it all over to me. I heard your last transmission from the Valkyrie.” Even thinking about that has her tears doubling. She almost feels like she’s back in Howard’s vault, but she’s not. She’s here with Steve. “So when Peggy and I met a few years later, we couldn’t really ignore it.”

“And Sharon?” Steve runs his hands up and down her arms as she wipes at her face.

“Sharon didn’t feel comfortable keeping it from me. It was kind of out of left field for me, and so fucking weird, but I really appreciate where it came from for her.” Darcy notices that the train is slowing. “So I mean, I guess it comes down to how you feel, that decides it for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have things changed? It’s been years, there was a war, aliens. I’ll probably feel a lot less benevolent if you want to be friends--”

“Friends?” Steve pulls her even closer. “Do you remember when I proposed?”

“Of course I do.”

“I said either one of us could leave. And we both did. But now here we are, and I can’t think that’s an accident. I don’t care if it is. I love you Darcy. I’ve always loved you. You’re my wife.”

Darcy swallows past the hard knot in her throat. Their faces are now mere inches apart. “You wanna hear something kind of crazy?”

“What?”

“I read on the news that I was in the past for six years. You crashed your plane a year after I left, and you’ve been awake now for five years. I don’t know the exact number of days, but through all of that, we’re the same ages in relation to each other.” Darcy shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of really liked that.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s lips curve in a smile. Darcy steals a quick kiss, and the smile widens.

“Wanna know something else that’s kind of crazy?”

“Do I get another kiss?”

Darcy tugs the long chain of her necklace free. It’s the same chain that dog tags hang from, or least, the kind they’d hung from back when Morita had gotten her the chain.

But instead of tags, three rings hang from it. Darcy opens the fastener, and pulls the chain free. Steve’s ring still has the bits of cloth he’d tied to it to make it fit, tattered as they are.

“How did you get that?” Steve whispers. “It was lost at Dr. Erskine’s lab.”

“Between Howard and Rebecca, a lot of our things were saved. Most of them are in the vault at Stark Mansion, but some of them are in my apartment.” Darcy looks at his hands, and begins working the worn fabric free from his ring. “I kept these with me. It made me feel like a part of you was there.”

The last of the fabric falls apart, tiny pieces raining down onto their laps. Darcy brings the ring up, and Steve holds out his left hand. It slides on, a perfect fit. Darcy grins.

“Now your hand is the same size as your dad’s was. How cool is that?”

Steve looks a little dazed, but then he reaches for her rings. Darcy presents her hand, giving a watery laugh when it trembles between them as Steve carefully slides them back into place.

“Hello, husband.”

“Hello, wife.” He says, and then he kisses her. Just like he had on their wedding day, when Rebecca had laughed, and the judge had not been amused, and only Mrs. Barnes’ pointed throat clearing had parted them.

Now it’s a knock at the door, and a muffled voice asking if they need a car called to the station.


	53. Chapter 53

They accept the station’s offer of a company car. It’s a gray sedan with someone’s parking pass and a roll of antacids in the cupholder.

As soon as they’d gotten in the car, Steve had put his hand on her leg. She had pulled it further into her lap, and now traces each of his fingers.

They follow Darcy’s arm cuff, knowing it will lead them to Tony and therefore the mansion. As they draw near, they’re stopped by a small roadblock. A French soldier greets Steve as Captain Rogers, and Darcy as Madame Rogers.

The soldiers are stationed ahead of a larger blockade, and are meant to stop the press. They radio ahead so that Steve and Darcy are able to drive directly through the next blockade.

“This doesn’t seem real.” Darcy says, watching out the window as they pass a small tank.

“It is.” Steve says firmly.

It makes Darcy smile, that stubborn tone of his. “How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me, gorgeous. If I could have willed you into existence, I would have managed it before now.” His smile is grim. “That’s for damn sure.”

Her cuff chimes. “Turn right up here.”

He says nothing, so she looks at him to make sure he heard her. He’s looking right back at her.

“You wanna hear something kind of crazy?” He asks, voice soft.

“What?” Darcy whispers.

“I don’t think it’s chance or luck that we both ended up here. Or that you showed up in that alley the exact second I was there.” He turns his hand over to grip hers. “I think we’ve both been fighting for a long time now. And I know I wasn’t seeing any end in sight. Just...fighting. But now that you’re here? You’re the end, Darcy. It’s not just fighting, if I’ve got you. And I can’t think that’s some accident of fate.”

Darcy bites her lip to stop it from trembling. She feels the same. She does. Steve is home, and she’s got Jane and Thor, and Tony. She’s where she’s supposed to be again, she belongs again, and she’s got Steve. It’s better than she could have ever even dreamed.

“It’s okay, Darce.” Steve says, and she closes her eyes. His voice, his blue eyes, heavy and serious and so fucking steady for her. It’s just like the day she broke a heel and she remembered it was Jane’s birthday and she lost it. “You just got back. I know a little bit about that. You’re allowed to need some time, sweetheart. And I know how it is to be glad you’re here, with these people, and still miss the ones you left behind.”

“You’re going to make me cry, and then everyone is going to think this went horribly.” Darcy warns him as he turns slowly into a long, winding driveway.

“Cry if you need to.”

“Later.” Darcy straightens, letting out a deep breath. Extending her arms, she shakes her hands. “Now we get to see everyone again. Holy shit, Steve. Look at this place. I can’t believe Pepper bought an actual French castle.”

Steve pulls to a stop in the middle of a large gravel lot, and they both sit for a second. Steve’s seat creaks under him when he twists to scan the tree line behind them.

“There’s just one thing.” He says somewhat hesitantly. “We heard some intel that Tony might be at his house in India. I was still in his security system, so I was able to get through the retinal scanner. It was fully stocked, so we figured he planned on showing up until I found my favorite pizza from Brooklyn in the freezer, a replacement arm for Bucky, and an extra wing pack for Sam.”

“Okay.” Darcy says slowly.

“And months later we found another Stark house, with the same.” Steve nods to himself. “So he’s a good friend. I already knew that I should have told him about Howard and Maria. But I just don’t understand, and I can’t get past, why he wouldn’t tell me about you.”

“Oh.” Darcy lets out a relieved breath. “Steve, he didn’t know. I think to start, I thought he knew. That Howard would have told him. By the time I met Tony, I was so… broken. I had lost Rebecca and John. I had lost you.”

Steve takes her hand again.

Darcy shrugs her shoulders. “We didn’t talk about any of that. We welded things, I taught him how to fly. And after that, it wasn’t something we ever broached. It hurt me to talk about you. And Howard had made it so anything about you was a sore subject with Tony. Tony knew I was married, he knew that I loved my husband, and he knew that my husband had died.”

“He really didn’t know?”

Darcy shakes her head. “He would have told you.”

Steve slowly nods. “He would have.”

“Ready?” Darcy nods her head towards her door.

“Just..” he gives her a small, slightly tired smile, “be careful.”

“I always am.” Darcy blows him a kiss, putting her hand on the door handle. “Not that anyone can say the same for you, Steven.”

“Doll.” He says in a tone some might call wheedling. Darcy had heard plenty of it, when he came home with a new bruise coming in, or dabbing at a bloody nose.

“Uh-huh.” Darcy pushes her door open and steps out onto the gravel. It smells like green, all fresh and clean. Past the gravel a bush is unruly with white blossoms, and insects buzz loudly.

“Hey.”

Darcy wheels around, arm already pulling back. The man who had put his hand on her shoulder goes down with a grunt when her fist collides with his face.

“My bad. Sorry! My bad.” He holds up both his hands. She has a second to take in his black and red suit, and the helmet that skitters under the car, put that together, and realize this is Ant Man, then Steve is next to her.

“Did you come over the car?” Darcy asks him, frowning at the roof of the sedan.

“He did.” Ant Man says, delicately touching the skin around his eye.

“Scott.” Steve offers him a hand up. “It’s good to see you again. This is Darcy. Darcy, this is Scott Lang. He’s Ant Man.”

“Before you ask, they won’t let me change the name.” Scott grimaces as he lowers his hand, but then he smiles brightly at Darcy. “Hey! It’s really cool to meet you. Tony won’t tell me if you’re Lady Pilot or not.”

“Lady Pilot?” Darcy questions, and Steve looks at her with a shrug.

“The Buxom Beauty?” Scott offers. “All-American Dynamo? There’s all kinds of stories about her. I was trying to verify the reported sightings using the leaked files, but Clint and I didn’t exactly have a steady wireless signal.”

“Scott.” A female voice that sounds incredibly annoyed seems to come from nowhere. Darcy knows this game, Scott had just startled her. She’d worked with Hank Pym a couple times. She scans the gravel carefully, but can’t make out anyone.

“Oh! Hope is here.” Scott waves down at the driveway, and suddenly another person appears.

The woman pulls off her helmet and shoves it into Scott’s hands, smacking him in the stomach with it.

“I told you not to startle them.” She turns to Darcy and smiles. “Hi, I’m Hope van Dyne.”

“Hi. Darcy Rogers. Big fan.”

Hope’s smile becomes warmer. “Likewise.”

“So is that a yes or a no on the Lady Pilot?” Scott prompts, rocking back on his heels. “Because I might die if you are.”

“Awesome job on the communication, by the way.” Clint says, coming through the massive front door of the castle. He taps his earpiece.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” Scott presses a finger to his earpiece. “It’s them. All clear.”

“Thanks for that.” Clint deadpans, but he’s focused on Darcy now, approaching slowly. “Hi Darce. It’s really good to see you again.”

He flips something out of his pocket and holds it out to her. It’s more scuffed than when she last saw it, but she recognizes the ‘ _when will Caroline Bingley get hers_?’ sticker on the back.

Clint then grins in amusement when she proceeds to smack Steve’s arm until Clint is close enough that she can take the iPod.

“Full charge, and I kept Tony away from it.” Clint brags, then grunts when Darcy flings herself against him.

“That’s what I got shot for?” Scott demands.

“Grazed. You got grazed.” Clint rolls his eyes as Darcy steps back.

She feels a little dazed again, as they walk into the castle. And it’s not the epically vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows making her so off-balance. But Steve’s hand lands on her back, and when she shuffles closer to him, his arm wraps around her waist.

He’s there with her as she meets Wanda, whose shy but friendly greeting probably had a lot to do with Vision, who stood nearby.

Like Clint, Natasha’s approach is slow and careful, giving Darcy plenty of time to balk. Also like Clint, Natasha’s hug is gentle.

“We have so much to talk about.” Natasha whispers, before moving on to hug Steve.

One by one, she meets the rest of the team, and Pepper who waits in the ‘east study’ with Jim. Jim can’t stand on his own yet, but he promises that everything looks promising, and he’s as good as ever in his suit.

Through it all, Steve is a steady presence.

Tony comes in with Bruce, jabbering at full-speed. Thor and Jane follow, Jane poking at a tablet and Thor shaking his head at Tony. Lastly, DUM-E and U wheel in, beeping excitedly once they see Darcy.

“It could work, is all I’m saying.” Tony says, then stops looking around the room. His eyes flick between Darcy and Pepper, then dart over to Steve. Then between Darcy and Steve.

“Tony! Did you know Pepper had Darcy’s blood tested against yours to make sure you weren’t related?” Jim asks as the rest of the conversations in the room cut off one by one.

“I’m actually really proud of that.” Pepper says as she crosses the room to stand next to Tony.

“As you should be.” Darcy and Tony say at the same time.

“Creepy.” Clint observes, but Darcy is distracted by how close Tony and Pepper are standing. How Tony shifts his weight, so he’s leaning a tiny bit closer to Pepper. Pepper trails a hand down Tony’s arm, but that could be platonic.

The way Tony catches her hand and kisses it is not though.

“Did I tell you Cap thought you were pregnant?” Tony asks Pepper, suddenly jarring back into motion. “He seemed pretty excited about it too.”

“Tony.” Pepper says, tipping her head slightly towards Steve.

“What?”

“Maybe after the Thanos problem is taken care of, but for now, don’t you have something to say to Steve?”

“Thanos! We’ve got a plan - Wait. What?” Tony turns back to Pepper, who is now trying to work her hand away from Tony.

“Steve.” Pepper says, pulling free of Tony’s grip with an assist from Darcy. “It’s so good to see you again. We’re all going to have dinner, it should be ready soon.”

“Traitor.” Tony accuses. Darcy beams at him and waggles a finger between Pepper and Tony. Seriously, she’s been shipping it for over a decade, and she blips out, they get together and break up while she’s gone? Tony rolls his eyes.

“It’s good to see you too. Thanks for setting all of this up.” Steve motions to castle around them, his other hand coming to rest on Darcy’s hip.

“Is that gonna be the deal? We have dinner and we’re all good?” Tony asks, looking around the room.

“That’s going to be the deal.” Natasha says, interrupting Jim’s long suffering and oft practiced sigh. “That and how your improved security at Clint’s house gave Laura and the kids extra time to get out, and you sent care packages to everyone--”

“--Care packages.” Tony scoffs even as Pepper tries to hide a smile.

“--Care packages,” Natasha repeats firmly, “and fixed Sam’s wings, and brought Bruce in--,”

“--I had nothing to do with that and I feel I’m being misrepresented.” Tony breaks in again. He looks back at Bruce and gestures to the room at large.

“--And have in general been a good teammate and friend.” Natasha finishes.

“Seriously, man.” Clint says, actually sincere for once.

“This is awful. Why is this happening to me?” Tony wipes his hands down the front of his shirt. “I thought we were going to eat our feelings.”

“Wait.” Darcy looks around. All of her nerves return, full-force. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He wasn’t sure you would want to see him straight off.” Tony flings a hand towards the ceiling. “He’s moping, I mean ‘patrolling’ outside. Do we need to set him up with my therapist?”

“What a kind and concerned offer, Tony.” Natasha observes, sending a smirk towards Pepper that is returned with scary accuracy. If Pepper and Natasha are friends, that is going to be incredibly amazing. And also a smidgen intimidating.

Darcy feels something settling within her. Steve brushes a hand down her side, and Jane is watching a flustered Tony with a small, amused smile. Thor is standing next to a flabbergasted Scott, and Bruce is putting an ungodly amount of sugar into a cup of tea.

There might be an underlying nervousness in the room, but it seems that everyone realizes that it’s surmountable. They’re all relaxing into themselves, into a known safety that they all know in their own way to relish and protect.

“I’m remembering why I don’t like you.” Tony mutters, then speaks up. “It was Bruce’s idea. Remember him? Didn’t you two have a thing?”

“We did. Thanks for encouraging us to speak about it Tony. I’m sure your support means a lot to both of us.” Natasha says as Clint passes between them. He seems settled too, as he joins Scott near a snack table. Even in his current discomfort, Tony seems more steady than he had been at Julian’s musty apartment.

“Come on. I want to see Bucky.” Darcy holds out a hand for Steve.

“Tell Sergeant Barnes we look forward to seeing him at dinner.” Vision offers as they pass him.

“If he wants.” Wanda adds, and Vision nods.

“Cap!” Clint calls just as they reach the door. He tips his head head towards the back of the room. “Second left will take you out through a courtyard.”

Dusk is falling as Darcy and Steve find their way through the courtyard. It’s in disrepair, a fountain in the middle long empty and with the stone cherubs crumbling. A nest of sparrows chatters from a tree branch.

“There.” Steve says, applying light pressure to turn her slightly.

The disbelief hits her all over again, when she sees him. What Rebecca would have done to see Bucky again.

But god, the hell he’d gone through. Darcy walks faster and faster towards him.

“If you don’t want me to hug you, you should say really quick.” Darcy declares when she’s a few steps away from him.

There is no response, so she doesn’t bother trying to slow down or stop. Still clinging to Steve’s hand, she collides with Bucky, going on tip-toe to wrap her free arm around his neck.

He’s solid and real, just like Steve behind her. A breath shudders out of him, and his arms come around her.

Darcy turns so her lips are close to his ear. “You know we love you, right?”

“You and Stevie okay?” He asks, pulling away.

“We’re fine.” Steve wraps an arm around her from behind.

“We’ll always be good.” Darcy says, holding Bucky’s gaze.

There’s a loud cough next to them.

“Sorry. Sorry, I just didn’t want to keep just standing here.”

Darcy turns within Steve’s grip. “Sam Wilson. I have seen you on the news. Doing incredibly stupid things with my husband.”

“Don’t deny it Wilson. What is it that you’re always saying?” Bucky props his arm on Darcy’s shoulder. “You do everything he does, just slower?”

“Well, I can tell already that this is going to be fun.” Sam says, but he’s smiling. “I might have heard a few things about you, but it’s really good to meet you Darcy.”

They make their way back into the castle, and follow the sound of many voices to the dining room. There’s a long table, a huge amount of food, and Thor is loudly disagreeing with Clint about something. Clint seems to be trying to prove his point with chicken legs, and trying to recruit Wanda so some of them can float.

Bucky stiffens when Jim sets down a heavy serving bowl.

Darcy nudges him with her shoulder and he looks down at her. “Fuck.”

Steve laughs, and one corner of Bucky’s mouth curls up. “Fuck.”

Walking into that room, she has no idea what will happen in the weeks to come.

Not that they’ll summer at this castle for years to come, or that the fact that she never again wakes with her skin free of ink means that there will be a small media flurry over Captain America’s wife having _tattoos_. She doesn’t know that Sam and Bucky will be epic frenemies who will sometimes drive her up the wall.

Or that she will come to absolutely adore Pepper. She doesn’t know that she will ache from sweetness, or nearly burst with pride, or become an aunt and a mother.

She only knows that her future, _her future_ , the one that belongs to her, is in that room.

As she crosses the threshold, and Jane turns to smile at them, she knows she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end. 
> 
> I will be working on Archival Modernization 3 after this, but I'm not making any promises for posting. I think that's what messed with me so much on this one. It was completed before I decided to work Civil War in, and writing while I knew I had a deadline did not work for me. All of the stress. So, just know that I am working on it, it is now my priority.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed the conclusion to Bygone, it was a bumpy road finishing it up for me. I still really love this fic though, and hope you do too.


End file.
